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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467808">expulsion from paradise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/6LilBussy9/pseuds/6LilBussy9'>6LilBussy9</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>expulsion from paradise [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Prep school, Angst, At one point, Baby bread is my Ivy League punching bag, Blackmail, Bullying, Chan reads Gender Trouble by Judith Butler, College Applications, Dark Academia, Drama, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Everyone Is Gay, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Killing, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Secrets, Sort Of, Stalking, Teacher-Student Relationship, bitchy hyunjin, everyone is a bad person, rich people shenanigans, satin black 2020 Kar Tunz Lamborghini Urus with its 18k golden finish and forged aluminum wheels, stray kids fucking murder jyp, wooj was in this but he is no longer, yeah we replaced wooj with jinyoung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:09:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/6LilBussy9/pseuds/6LilBussy9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “stared at the fire. He witnessed it chew at the red, blue, green, purple clumps of skin that had been left” <i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>
    <br/>
    <i>In the weeks after helping commit murder, Hyunjin starts to wonder what exactly it was that pushed his friends over the edge.</i>
    <br/>
  </i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>expulsion from paradise [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2251086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. exodus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of course there was a crucifix, dangling from a collection of red beads. Hyunjin noticed it from where he was, on his back -- and he hated being on his back, he fucking hated it -- peeking out from this open obsidian leather satchel on the office floor. It was leaning against the cognac brown executive desk, the same one that he was on top of, in fact, with sheets of paper cushioned underneath him. They brushed the bare skin hugging his spine, when a pen wasn’t digging into that same part, only revealed because his sweater and button-down had ridden up. Dragging against the desk as he was, the pen kept rolling under him, so that the clip at its end pressed in painfully with each shift, move. In the clump of his thoughts, there was the brief desire to tell the principal to stop, just for a moment, enough to move off that pen before it left him with a bruise. But, he was still distracted by the rosary.</p><p>The crucifix’s gaze was boring into his skull, and not because Hyunjin was suddenly overcome with regret, not at all. There was just something about its silver, the curls at the ends of the cross, the facelessness to Jesus. Very, very aesthetically pleasing, he was deciding in his head. He was going to take it. The principal probably wouldn’t mind; if he did, Hyunjin would convince him otherwise. Gripping the edge of the desk now, his eyelids fell down, crashed until he was seeing black. There were some spots in the abyss, dots that shone whenever an authentic cry slipped out from between his pink lips. There was some sense of tightening, knotting, in his veins that made his toes curl and his legs jerk in their place on the man’s broad shoulders. Unfocusing his thoughts from the rosary in the principal’s satchel, he could hear his own breathing now, feel the way his chest rose and fell in stutters, the shifts of his throat, the endless expansion of his lungs when he moaned loud.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, he didn’t cum. Hyunjin was overcome with shivers when he felt the thrusts into him become stammering. He felt the twitches of the old man’s — well, he wasn’t all that old, just middle-aged — cock as it spilled uncomfortably warm into a condom. Opening his eyes, meeting the glare of a fan, spinning, spinning, spinning, Hyunjin only grew dizzy. The peppering of wet, sticky kisses only made the turning over in his brain faster; the whine from his mouth must have sounded pitiful, because the principal gently took Hyunjin’s face in a hand that made him feel unbelievably small. His eyebrows curved up, Hyunjin’s mouth opened -- he imagined he must have looked like a pretty little school boy, simply wanting to please, not minding he didn’t finish as long as his dear superior did.</p><p>Truthfully, Hyunjin wasn’t pissed, but he wasn’t happy either. Fisting his own dripping cock as the fifty-something-year-old pulled, more like <em> flopped </em>, out of him, he had to squeeze his eyes shut again. He had to imagine it was someone else slipping his tongue between his teeth. Only then, a minute after the principal, he came. He did it over his fingers, for the most part, and avoided his sweater. Somehow, he managed, then kissed the old man easier, discovering the blackness behind his eyes brighter. The coils in his muscles had been undone, the tensions released, and he was thinking again. Thinking as clear as anyone could.</p><p>He still didn’t feel any regret at all.</p><p>Hyunjin fixed his uniform afterwards. He wasn’t entirely in disarray, but they had thrown his pants far away from the desk. He had to go get them himself, as the old man was catching his breath, slipping off, tying, and throwing away the condom, before pulling up his own slacks. He collapsed against the desk chair; he was sweating. Hyunjin made a face as he clicked his belt into place, but he wasted no time in getting his act together. </p><p>“Sir,” he called using his favorite honey sweet voice. “I noticed you have, like, a cross in your bag.” It was a ditzy, airy tone. “Can I look at it?”</p><p>“What? That?” The old man reached down with a squeal of his chair as Hyunjin made himself comfortable sitting on the desk again. He noticed the pen he had been laying on top of earlier. He picked it up gingerly, twiddled it. “It’s just a rosary.” The man pulled it out and used both hands to feel it up, as if it were the boy’s body moments ago. “Do you like it?”</p><p>Hyunjin nodded and watched the cross dangle in the air, crossing his legs, setting the pen down. “Can I have it? Pleeeease?”</p><p>“Well, my sister gave it to me, but…” He trailed off once Hyunjin had tilted his head, and brought a pout to his lips. “I guess it’s not all that important to me. Do you promise to take good care of it?”</p><p>“Of course, daddy.”</p><p>It worked. After some sloppy kissing, Hyunjin was placing the cool rosary around his neck like a noose, and then he slipped it under his clothes. He was sweaty, which he hated, but he’d fix that later. For now, he stayed in the principal’s office, perched on the older man’s lap as he checked his phone for notifications. Most of it was social media, but there were some texts too, from a WhatsApp groupchat promptly named, “STAY.” Minho was reminding everyone about the club meeting, Jisung was letting them all know he might be late as always, and Bang Chan was doing the same. Hyunjin felt a hand rub at his back, heard the older man type onto the keyboard and desktop they’d nearly knocked over earlier. </p><p>Nothing was out of the ordinary, everything was back to normal, back to how things had been before what happened with Jin-young.</p><p>Hyunjin kissed his principal’s cheek before moving off and fixing his clothes again. Finally, he allowed himself to feel disgusting; he needed a bath, needed one so bad he was almost gagging on the spot. Still, he was a good boy. He said, in that pretty voice, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later, sir,” and picked up his backpack. There was some waving, some light smiling, and a, “Thanks again for all the help this year.” Then, there was deep, rumbling laughter from the old man as Hyunjin pulled open the heavy maple door. He stepped out into a white hallway that seemed to eat him alive.</p><p>He headed straight for the marble stairs, hand on the polished black rail as he made his way down the building to the first floor. A few students brushed past him, and Hyunjin realized classes had probably just finished, but he honestly  had no idea. This building was pretty far from the entirely academic ones, though a few very small seminars took place on the second floor — mostly shitty creative writing. Hyunjin stepped onto the patterned tile, off the last step, then turned right. Students kept passing by, in their black dress pants, brown loafers, white button-ups, blazers, sweaters, and ties. To one side, there were large, tall windows that beamed in light and showed off the greenery between school pathways and red-brick buildings. ‘Looks a bit like Harvard,’ someone had written as a review for St. Sebastian’s High School once; Hyunjin had noticed it while scrolling through Niche a few times.</p><p>The bathroom door was beside a recreation of the <em> Death of Socrates </em>, right in front of another one of those wide, long windows. Hyunjin didn’t look at it though, didn’t consider it out of the ordinary, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t. Everything was so ordinary it was making him nauseous again, and the obnoxiously pale, marble interior made it all worse. He moved quickly to the sink, letting his backpack slip off his shoulders carelessly onto the floor. Not bothering to check if he was even alone, he was already turning the tap and splashing ice cold water onto his face. He wasn’t sweaty anymore, but he felt as if all his clothing were still stuck to him; gross — he felt gross, like mud was caked on every patch of his skin. </p><p>He brushed his teeth. The old man hadn’t even fucked his mouth today, but this was habit now. Most of Hyunjin’s backpack just carried dumb shit like this nowadays anyway, so might as well use it. It was his second semester of senior year, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t even gone to class in- what, 3 weeks? He spent most of the day in the principal’s office, or just at home. He always did come for STAY meetings, though: Students’ Transformation Alliance for Youth. </p><p>Brushing hard enough to nearly tear apart his gums, Hyunjin heard a flush. He cursed in his head then spit into the sink. He rinsed out his mouth quickly, dried the toothbrush, then put it away along with his travel-sized toothpaste. He turned to his reflection, taking in the pink flush scattered over his cheek, his unruly hair, and his lips, pink and plump as always, but chapped. He decided to fix his smell first. Reaching down, Hyunjin pulled out perfume — Roja Parfums Absolue Precious, for the curious — and sprayed it on his clothes, his neck, and wrists. Dropping it back into his bag, he saw in the mirror, the stall door open. Instantly, he relaxed and let out a little laugh. “Lixie, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m in the bathroom. What do you think?” Felix tugged down on his blazer as he moved to the sink beside Hyunjin’s and used it.</p><p>“Funny, because I thought you had biochem last. And that’s on the other side of campus.”</p><p>“Don’t act like you don’t know what skipping is, bitch.”</p><p>Hyunjin laughed again, louder, and Felix was smiling now too, but keeping his head down so it wouldn’t be as obvious. Hyunjin, meanwhile, went back to his bag, pulling out some sticks of lip gloss. “Quick — what flavor?”</p><p>Felix turned the dials beside the faucet, shutting off the water, before looking over. “Let’s see.” He dried his hands with a towel as he scanned the four options. “Lavender,” he read aloud, “buttercream, cherry, vanilla. Buttercream sounds a little cursed.”</p><p>“So buttercream?”</p><p>“Cherry.”</p><p>Hyunjin gave him a bright smile before putting the non-cherry ones away. He applied the gloss tenderly, mumbling as he did, “So, you’re coming to the meeting, right? You didn’t text in the chat.”</p><p>Felix kept running his hand through his hair, but strands continued to fall out of place. “Duh. Chan usually gives me a ride home.”</p><p>“Ah.” Hyunjin smacked his lips before screwing the top of the lip gloss tube back on. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”</p><p>“I think you’re just dumb and horny.”</p><p>“Doesn’t make me wrong.” Hyunjin nudged him then, looking down. Their eyes met. “Hey, Lixie, are you busy tonight?”</p><p>Felix made an amused noise. “Why?”</p><p>“It’s almost graduation, and you haven’t hung out with me in months.” He saw Felix’s mouth open wide. “Not alone. We only ever see each other when <em> everyone </em> is together. You should come over.”</p><p>Felix sighed as Hyunjin finally put the gloss away. “Dude, you have to tell me this shit with time, I’ve told you.”</p><p>“Right.” Hyunjin zipped up his backpack, slinging it onto one shoulder. “Why is that? Do you need to ask daddy for permission in advance?”</p><p>Felix snorted. “Some of us have loving parents, Hyunjin.”</p><p>“I dunno if I trust your definition of love.” Hyunjin didn’t miss a beat. “I mean, you always said you loved Jin-young, didn’t you?”</p><p>It’s impossible to describe how stupid, stupid gratification built itself up from Hyunjin’s gut and bloomed in his throat. He grinned so hard it twisted his face. He laughed at Felix’s face, all paled and wide-eyed, physically taken aback. The shorter one was stammering, “What the fuck-? Dude- Dude, that isn’t funny.”</p><p>“It’s <em> kinda </em> funny,” Hyunjin breathed as he tried to stifle giggles that made his shoulders shake. “Okay- Okay, I’m sorry, don’t look at me like that. That was probably too dark.”</p><p>Felix shook his head, gripping a strap of his own backpack. His face abandoned shock to melt into disgust, but his tone was sad, guilty, “You think, dumbass?”</p><p>“I said I’m sorry,” Hyunjin’s voice was still littered with laughter but he cleared his throat then repeated himself. “Come on, let’s go to the meeting.”</p><p>“What’s the point of meeting anymore?” Felix seemed to have forcefully brushed off what just happened, not struggling when Hyunjin slung an arm over his shoulders. They headed to the door together, listening to their shoes tap against the floor. “Do we have any events planned for these last two months? We’re not gonna do anything for summer, are we?”</p><p>“Of course not.” Hyunjin squeezed Felix’s shoulder as they made their way down the hall, past Socrates. “I have a trip to Cancun planned. Wanna tag along? Look, I’m even asking in advance.”</p><p>Felix smiled again, finally. “Maybe. I’ll let you know if I can.” There was a pause. “Hey, Hyunjin, you’re missing an earring.”</p><p>“Yup. Noticed during lunch.”</p><p>“Do you want me to help you look for it?”</p><p>“Nah.” Hyunjin almost laughed, bitterly. He could guess pretty easy who probably had it, who was holding it dear.</p><p>The club met in a faculty meeting room, with a long rosewood table, several long chairs surrounding it, enough to accommodate ten people, and some bookcases. It was a bit of a dark place, having only one wide window at the end. When they’d first been assigned that room a year ago, Hyunjin remembered having teased that the low-hanging light and weird narrow shape made everything claustrophobic, made the room perfect for occult activities. They voted no on the satanic cult idea, but they went for something similar: a flashy charity club for college applications. </p><p>There were eight members in total, nine if you counted the old vice-president Jin-young.</p><p>Minho was already there, of course. He was seated at the very end of the table, looking like a king. With one hand, he tapped his nails against the wood, and with the other he was flipping through what appeared to be a checkbook. Minho was always doing something with money — collecting, counting, depositing. It made sense: he was the treasurer of STAY, and a hundred other clubs, including the student council, when he wasn’t interning at Wall Street. His dad just so happened to work there too. Arguably, Minho was the richest of them all, despite his family being relatively new to the billionaire threshold. And yet still he didn’t seem satisfied with the money he had, heading straight to Wharton as he was. Hyunjin had been to one of his mansions a few times, witnessed Minho villainously petting his three cats while looking at stocks.</p><p>Seungmin, the secretary, was sitting beside him. Also arguably, he was the smartest person in the room. He could speak Latin, Greek, French, Spanish, German, Korean, Japanese, Guaraní, Mandarin, Italian, English, and probably everything else. Unlike Minho, his family’s wealth could probably be traced back to the invention of money, and he made that very, very known. Seungmin wore his pretentious, posh lineage on his sleeve, and threw it in the face of anyone who asked. His grandfather had discovered some ancient ruins, his great grandfather had translated some famous lost text, and so on and so on. He lived off his surname, derived worth from it, reveled in it, and when he wasn’t doing that, he went to museums and lusted after statues of the Roman Antinous. He wrote long poems about love and existentialism and egoism and poverty of the heart. He’d probably continue doing all that at Bowdoin.</p><p>At Minho’s other side was Jisung. Jisung was boring. He went to the midnight premiere of <em> Avengers: Endgame </em> and had a big plushie of a <em> Star Wars </em> ewok sitting on his bed that Hyunjin had attempted to stab once just to hear Jisung scream. Their parents were good friends, so they’d grown up like siblings, together for a hundred different vacations and general turning points in their lives. During all that, Hyunjin bullied the shit out of him. Jisung was too nice of a person — he was shy, sweet, and actually meant every word on his college application essay to Brown. He was annoying, but he was also necessary. Jisung was Hyunjin’s reminder of how normal people worked, how they thought, how they were selfish and scared. </p><p>Jeongin, who was standing, however, wasn’t necessary. He was on his phone, typing something quickly with one hand, but Hyunjin still felt insulted, as if the other had spit onto his shoes. On the surface, Jeongin wasn’t very different from anyone else at St. Sebastian’s. He was in a hundred clubs, much like Minho, but he’d started most of them too: beekeeping, literary journaling, Tedx talks, social justice, squash, hospital internships, low-income neighborhood tutoring services — you name it. He’d actually been the one who started STAY, with the intent to pad his resume with some more fundraising and community giveback. He wasn’t the president though, since his other extracurriculars apparently took priority away. Out of everyone, he was the most newly wealthy — the son of a successful Silicon Valley startup that made his parents rich overnight. He was the youngest too, and had a cute enough face to have earned him the nickname ‘baby bread.’ More important than all that though, he was on the Harvard waitlist.</p><p>Hyunjin was also on the Harvard waitlist.</p><p>Someone was pulling out a chair, offering it to Hyunjin, and he looked over to see Changbin. Changbin — he was a quiet guy, socially awkward, to say the least. Hyunjin had known him all his life, much like Jisung, but not because their families were particularly close. They were just neighbors, and for a time, their bedrooms were positioned so that they could wave at each other from their windows. Once, they had written on papers to communicate, just like that one Taylor Swift music video. Later, Hyunjin was moved to the other side of the house. They talked less because of this, but they still knew each other well. Very well.</p><p>Hyunjin took the seat, smiling at Changbin and giving him a thankful nod. From there, he also noticed Felix move to sit at the other end of the table, beside Jisung. He cleared his throat and greeted everyone with his typical casualness, but Hyunjin only half listened. Compared to everyone else in the club, Felix was the most mysterious. He had transferred in two years ago and though everyone loved him, hardly anyone knew anything about him. He had made it part of his persona to be a great listener, letting you vent your issues, allowing you to hug him until you were exhausted of worries, but it masked the fact that Felix’s own secrets were locked tightly somewhere in his chest. Hyunjin had no idea what his parents did, what he wanted to study, where he was going after high school, or why on earth he was Australian. </p><p>Bang Chan arrived noisily, slamming the door open and laughing, “Sorry, sorry, I know I said I was just gonna take ten minutes.” Hyunjin’s eyes were on Felix, who was smiling brightly all of a sudden, eyes sparkling. “I got stuck at practice.” There was shuffling, and then Hyunjin dragged his gaze away to see the president grin.</p><p>Bang Chan was nice enough; he lightened up the rooms he entered and made everyone laugh. He was at every single party Hyunjin had ever been to, and if you didn’t know him, you would have never guessed he’s the absurdly rich son of big name politicians. Instead, you would have assumed he was a regular beefy, stupid guy who could play beer pong professionally, hung out in sketchy neighborhoods for no reason, did bad graffiti, and skateboarded. The real Chan was all those things, but he was also going to MIT. It’s funny how someone could be so intelligent and ridiculously stupid at the same time. For that reason alone, Hyunjin liked him. </p><p>“Alright, boys,” Chan began, throwing his backpack hazardously across the room as Changbin and Jeongin finally found places to sit. That left Chan standing alone by the door, looking like the leader he was supposed to be when he wasn’t drunk and shaking his ass at a house party. “Why are we here? Minho, you’re the one who asked to meet up, right?”</p><p>Minho took his checkbook and slipped it into his sweater pocket. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure everyone got their money.”</p><p>Hyunjin snorted, loud enough that everyone turned to face him. “You could have just asked over the groupchat.”</p><p>“It’s easier face-to-face.” Minho leaned back into his chair, a tug pulling at one end of his lips. “What’s wrong? Mad I made you actually come to school?”</p><p>Hyunjin wanted to snark something back, but Chan interrupted, “How much were we supposed to get? I got a hundred.”</p><p>Jeongin, or baby bread, piped in, “Me too. Seems a little low. I thought our last event did good?”</p><p>“It did,” Minho said. “But I needed to submit a little extra to the school. I think they were getting suspicious, so a hundred for each one of us and five hundred for the school.”</p><p>Jisung made a little noise; Hyunjin wanted to hit him for it. “I thought we made at least five thousand, though… Did the sponsors not pull through?”</p><p>“Most did, but you know how they get last minute.” Minho replied to Jisung’s frown with a long smile. “But what I’m hearing is that everyone got their fair share?”</p><p>Everyone nodded, and then Chan clapped his hands. “Cool. Great. This our last meeting?”</p><p>“We should meet a couple more times,” Seungmin suggested swiftly. “If the school’s actually onto us then we should look busy.” Hyunjin almost groaned. </p><p>“We can keep meeting on Mondays like this,” Jeongin said. “My other right-after-school Monday club is done already, so this time would be good.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Felix whined, “but what are we gonna do for an hour here?”</p><p>“I’m down for an orgy,” Hyunjin said before he could stop himself. </p><p>“Can’t,” Jeongin answered seriously because of fucking course he did. “I have theater after this.” Of fucking course he does. “Unless you’re as quick to cum as you look.”</p><p>“Can we not?” Jisung begged, but everyone except him and Changbin was laughing. </p><p>“Shut up, het,” Hyunjin snarked, to Minho’s particularly loud snickering. “The grownups are talking.” He looked down, picked at his nails. “By the way, has anyone been stopped by the cops recently? Binnie told me he has.” And like that, just like with Felix in the bathroom, the lightness of the room became heavy. It dropped onto their shoulders and shattered everyone’s bones. “Funny. I thought someone here promised that they wouldn’t even <em> suspect </em> us-”</p><p>“Shut up,” Seungmin cut in, snapped. “They don’t suspect us. They’re treating us as Jin-young’s friends- Of- Of course they want to talk to us.” Though he might have had the intention of cutting the tension, Seungmin’s mention of the ex-member’s name only served to suffocate everyone further. It dragged blades down their arms, raked up their spine.</p><p>“I didn’t want to say anything,” Chan said lowly, and he took a step forward so that he was right by Hyunjin. His hand went on the table, fingers splayed out to show off silver and golden rings. “I thought we all said we weren’t going to bring this up.”</p><p>“It’s Lixie’s fault.” Hyunjin watched the boy in question blink in confusion. “He was harassing me about Jin-young in the bathroom.”</p><p>“What-?!” Felix looked about to shoot up from his chair.</p><p>“Well, this was inevitable,” Minho cut in, shifting in his own seat and rolling his shoulders. “Maybe it’s not so bad that we bring it up. There are some questions still in the air.”</p><p>“No, there aren’t,” Seungmin replied strongly, flatly. “What happened was an accident.” He paused then took a long, outstretched moment to run his eyes over everyone. “We can all say that, right?”</p><p>Jisung, ever the mediator, tried to say, “Of course-”</p><p>“Weird, though,” Jeongin interrupted anyway. “Weird how every single one of us could just commit murder <em> accidentally </em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was a good thing it was dark. If it had been any time before sunset, Hyunjin thought he might have actually felt remorse or, well, not remorse, but he might have reconsidered his actions. Not thinking was better -- <em> feeling </em> alone was so, so much better. He could feel his heart rocking against his sternum like hips thrusting forward, quick and hard, making every part of him clammy. His fingers were trembling around the expensive wool of Jin-young’s coat; his hands were fisted there, pulling. Someone was spinning the world around him, as if he were drunk, and a part of him kept wanting to laugh. The sweat that dripped down his face, this squeezing of his lungs that made him gasp over and over, and the unbearable heat of exhilaration -- it was like an orgasm.</p><p>He wasn’t turned on by killing, not really, but the absolute absurdity of what he had done was so overwhelming he had no other idea how to cope with it. He dragged Jin-young’s body over the dirt, just as the others did, listened to the crickets and his own grunts. “He’s heavy,” he had said some minutes ago. Baby bread told him to shut up. </p><p>Minho waved his flashlight around, illuminating the thick pines that caged them. Branches reached out like arms messily, up and down, nothing like the perfectly sculpted Christmas trees Hyunjin usually associated with these sorts of trees. The forestry, here, was a beast. It was devouring them whole; if Seungmin wasn’t leading, Hyunjin imagined they’d all be terribly lost by now. They would all be dead in the dirt getting their intestines sucked out by roots. Underneath his foot, there was a crunch of a pine. They reached a clearing.</p><p>“There.” Seungmin was pointing, so Minho tried to turn his flashlight, but Chan swiped it from his hands quickly to avoid flashing light in the closed eyes of their target. The homeless man was asleep in a makeshift tent with the flap open, so that a balding head peeked out. The light now in Chan’s hands, of course, turned him incredibly visible. The blood on him was stark against his face, and everywhere else where his skin peeked out. It dripped off his chin the way sweat, or tears, did, and if he weren’t wearing such dark black he would have probably been loudly soaked in red. Bang Chan had been one of the key figures in the murder, so this wasn’t surprising. The ones who’d done most of the beating were only him and Changbin. Hyunjin would have expected Changbin to be cleaner about it, but no — he had been sadistic when they began to cut him open. </p><p>But that wasn’t very surprising either. Hyunjin almost laughed again.</p><p>“What do we do now?” Felix asked, quietly. “Dump him here?”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid,” Seungmin scolded before shakily looking back at everyone. “Lighter— does anyone have one?”</p><p>Bang Chan did, pulled it out. “What do you need it for?”</p><p>“They won’t think the old man did it if our DNA is all the body.” Seungmin swallowed as the silver lighter was handed to him, and then he flicked it open. Somehow, the tiny flame was stronger than the flashlight, brighter than the moon, hotter than Hyunjin’s blood.</p><p>“This is so fucked up.” Jisung had been crying ever since Jin-young was smuggled out of the car and dragged deep into the forest. “Guys, we need to stop. We can’t do this.”</p><p>“It’s too late now,” Felix’s voice came from the darkness gravely. “Either we do this or we’re all getting sent to prison for life. Can’t go to Brown if you’re rotting in a cell, Jisung.” The last part might have been a bad touch; it made Jisung hiccup over his sobs. Hyunjin, though, hid a smile behind a hand. Finally, everyone was straightening up, letting go of the butchered, nearly unrecognizable, body of someone who was, had been, a childhood friend. Hyunjin himself was filled to the brim with memories of Jin-young filling in color books in the preschool desk beside his. He remembered graduating kindergarten together, and elementary, and middle in the same blue caps and gowns. It seemed that tradition wouldn’t reach the end of high school. </p><p>They lit the body on fire. And his phone, too.</p><p>“Minho, you’re gonna have to take back your knives,” Seungmin was saying quietly. Changbin was holding them both, and he handed them over stiffly, as if loosening his grip on them was harder than having used them for murder. “Bang Chan, Changbin, you two need to get home and clean up now. Everyone else, especially you, Felix, you have blood all over your pants — we need to burn our clothes.”</p><p>“No,” Hyunjin, finally, spoke up. “No way. This is Prada. Besides, I have to get back to the party. There’s no time to waste.” He smiled, and because of the growing flame eating at the corpse of his old friend, everyone could see it perfectly. “<em> Someone </em> has to convince our classmates that we were all at the party the whole time.” He realized Jisung was still crying, loud, annoyingly. “Who’s coming with?”</p><p>“You’re fucked up in the head,” Minho said, but then nodded swiftly. “That’s a good idea, though. I can’t because I gotta get rid of the knives, but someone else should go.”</p><p>“I can do it,” Jeongin offered. “Make sure Hyunjin doesn’t say anything stupid.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.</p><p>“I’ll go,” Seungmin said too. “I need a drink.”</p><p>“So everything is settled then?” Chan‘s voice came out lowly, and he was looking directly into the fire. “Felix needs to get home. Jisung also needs to get home before he faints. And Changbin — I can give you a ride.” A pause. “Changbin?”</p><p>“I’ll go to the party,” Changbin replied, with no tone to his speech. “I’ll wash up at a gas station.”</p><p>“Don’t, what the fuck?” Seungmin cut in quickly. “Literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Chan, take him home.”</p><p>Hyunjin swallowed. He took a moment to wrap thin fingers around Changbin’s bicep, felt him stiffen so abruptly you’d think he’d turned to stone. Whispering— “Thank you, baby.” He could sense something deep inside Changbin shift at his words, but Hyunjin didn’t waste time thinking about it. He stared at the fire. He witnessed it chew at the red, blue, green, purple clumps of skin that had been left of Jin-young, watched as the raging flames twisted up into a gray fog climbing up and up until it shielded them from the stars. Maybe the old homeless man would wake up at any moment, maybe some other person in the woods would notice their sin sinking into the earth before them. And so they had to leave, had to, had to, had to, but each step was heavy, it jostled Hyunjin’s insides so that he thought for a moment they would come spilling out of his mouth. He wondered if he would resemble Jin-young in his last moments, spewing pure red from between pale lips. </p><p>When Hyunjin reached the party, he nearly drank himself to death, but he was happy. He was spinning around, enjoying the music, obsessed with the attention he always received, and kissing any guy who asked. He hooked up a couple times, and at moments, he nearly forgot the waving mass of red in the forest, rotting the body until it was bones, but never entirely. Still, he was happy.</p><p>Happy. Happy. Happy.</p>
<hr/><p>After spending roughly an hour in the shower, Hyunjin liked to spend his mornings lounging around in a hand-stitched pink silk robe embroidered with pale flowers that fell nearly past his ankles, and his hair pulled back into a loose bun. He was fingering his new rosary, laying back on his couch, eyes on the Instagram feed he was scrolling through with his other hand. He had added a lot of Princeton admits in the spur of his acceptance, but that fateful decision had made it so that he kept having to see all these pictures of a hundred people he didn’t know or care about. When he reached the fourth feeding-poor-third-world-children mission trip photo, he’d had enough. He switched onto his own profile and admired the coherent aesthetic seamlessly threaded together with each post.</p><p>Jin-young had actually taken a good chunk of the photos, especially the earlier ones. They’d been closer two years ago, before the college grind really got to them, and turned them into business partners. That wasn’t weird; that was just what prep school does to people. It turns relationships into transactions: transforms friendships into corporations, lovers into capital, touch into trade, family into investment.</p><p>Most of Hyunjin’s account was himself, but there were a few pictures of friends, mostly Seungmin, Minho, and some Bang Chan. All the photos with Jin-young in them were gone, deleted the same day he’d posted on his story a tearful video describing how horrified he was that Jin-young had been officially declared found and murdered. Reminiscing how he’d practiced in the mirror beforehand, Hyunjin switched off his profile. He typed Felix’s account name into the search bar, and then he stalked. </p><p>Somehow, he felt his mood lift even as he muttered to himself about Felix nearing his follower account. His aesthetic was not nearly as refined as Hyunjin’s; if anything, the only coherent theme going on was “cute.” He posted his outfits, his outings with Chan, his food, his pretty round face and pink lips, and stupid sterotypical shit like sunsets. It all pissed Hyunjin off. He had spent a hundred more hours crafting his online persona, planning themes and searching for trends, and now that stupid twink was about to surpass him. Maybe he was buying followers, maybe Chan was buying them. Hyunjin actually snorted to himself, in the middle of the silent living room. Maybe Chan was too busy having his dick down that stupid blonde bitchboy’s throat to buy him anything.</p><p>His phone started blaring, vibrating in his hands, and Hyunjin sat up with a scowl. He considered not answering, but only after he had clicked to do so. “Baby bread,” he greeted, and then he smiled, as if Jeongin could see him. “Bad boy, you’re supposed to be in class.”</p><p>“Actually, I have this block off.” Chuckle. “Don’t see why you’re scolding me, though. Where the hell even are you?”</p><p>“I’m in the locker rooms” Hyunjin considered ordering food; his stomach was rumbling, but he was also on a strict diet. Even still, he kept licking his lips, imagining the coolness of a sundae on his tongue.</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“I don’t lie,” Hyunjin lied. “Why are you calling me, by the way? I’m kind of in the middle of getting gangbanged by the football team.”</p><p>“Just wanted to talk. We’re friends, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Didn’t feel like it yesterday.” Hyunjin picked up his long legs and crisscrossed them on the couch, and now he really, really wanted that sundae. “You were kind of a dick to me in front of everyone for no reason.”</p><p>“No reason?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“You killed someone, Hyunjin.”</p><p>“<em> We </em> killed someone, baby bread.” A grin began to snake its way over his mouth. “You made yourself sound really innocent at the meeting, you know. You threatened me. You told everyone that I was obviously some sort of manipulative mastermind even though I didn’t even stab Jin-young once. Why didn’t you attack Channie, huh?”</p><p>“You were the one who suggested we take him to the forest. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen?”</p><p>“I thought we were gonna scare him. That was the plan.” A pause. “If you thought the night was gonna end in murder no matter what, then why didn’t <em> you </em> say anything?”</p><p>There was a sigh, so loud Hyunjin almost believed Jeongin was right there with him. “Something is wrong.” The words tumbled out of his mouth and shattered over the ground. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”</p><p>“Feeling all guilty now?” Hyunjin kept imaging the sundae in his mouth, swirling a cherry to tie a knot with its stem. “Thought you’d be happy about this. Our little money laundering shenanigans are a confirmed secret now. Jin-young took his snitching to the grave, and you’ve been a heartless motherfucker for a while now. I’m shocked you’re not celebrating.” </p><p>“I’m apparently not as heartless as you.”</p><p>“Not yet, anyway,” Hyunjin decided to humor him. “I was actually born this way. I’ve been a cruel asshole since birth, but you, baby bread? Two years ago, you were this shy, pretty kid who wanted to go to Harvard to make the world a better place. You were all cute and obedient, and now look at you: a fucking murderer.”</p><p>“Hyunjin,” Jeongin cut in. “Don’t you think there’s something weird about all this? Why- Why did no one say anything? Fuck, even Jisung didn’t fucking stop us.”</p><p>“It’s called mass hysteria, baby,” Hyunjin answered. “None of us were thinking. It all happened really quick. Maybe Minnie is right. We should just forget about it. And you should stop putting the blame on me just to deal with your own guilt.”</p><p>In reality, Hyunjin was excited. He had been driven insane by these thoughts ever since that day. The nature of Jin-young's murder, even if the case was essentially closed by police, even if Hyunjin had been right there to assist in it — it was still as relevant as ever. Could it be true that eight starkly different people were so scared of the nature of their club being revealed that they resorted to murder without any hesitation? Maybe, potentially, Jin-young was holding something more over the other club members’ heads. The only question that remained was <em> what? </em> </p><p>The next day, Hyunjin did the hour-long commute to school from his penthouse in the city. Given that he had a chauffeur, it really wasn’t a hassle, never had been, and Hyunjin got his extra sleep in the backseat, using his backpack of useless shit as a pillow and cuddling a blanket. He was woken up by the driver, and Hyunjin waved a hand casually in thanks as he stepped out into the breeze that passed between a math building and a foreign languages one. He moved off the curb into a pathway and didn’t bother looking back at the satin black 2020 Kar Tunz Lamborghini Urus with its 18k golden finish and forged aluminum wheels.</p><p>He went to his classes, for the first time in forever. His teachers were less than ecstatic, but they had made up this idea in their heads that Hyunjin had been grieving, hence the absences. It was also the end of the year so they kinda didn’t give a shit if their students started slacking, especially the seniors. Hyunjin promised he would turn in homework, knowing that he never would, and smiled charmingly when his teachers laughed, also knowing that he never would. It’s not like it mattered; Hyunjin could change any inputted grades from the principal’s office, and the principal himself wouldn’t mind as long as Hyunjin kept getting on his knees for him and calling him daddy.</p><p>He forked some salad into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Sungie,” he called.</p><p>Jisung, who had been chatting jovially with Minho about whatever dumb movie they both watched, turned. “Yeah?”</p><p>“That shirt looks bad on you.” Hyunjin played with his food then laughed when Jisung just huffed. “What? I mean it. I think you should go for darker colors. Remember your scene phase? That was really good.”</p><p>Minho grinned toothily as he twirled a fork from the otherside of the lunch table. “Scene phase, you say?”</p><p>“Stop,” Jisung whined to Hyunjin. “Why are you bothering me? I haven’t done anything.”</p><p>“Uh, yes you have. You put on that dumb shirt.” Hyunjin hid a giggle at Jisung’s pout by lifting some more of his salad into his mouth. “Oh, hey, off topic, but I think we should all hang out. After school, or maybe even right now, if you want. There’s this ice cream place that opened up near my place.”</p><p>Jisung, who lived much closer to the school, whined again. “Ugh, but that’s an hour.”</p><p>“So? Not like anyone else is inviting you out, right?”</p><p>Minho spoke over Jisung’s frown. “I can’t. I have another date.”</p><p>“Date?” Hyunjin pursed his lips as he chewed. </p><p>“Not a <em> real </em> date. Jeongin wants to talk to me.” Hyunjin’s mouth slipped into a frown, and his eyebrows came together to form a frustrated little line. “I think he’s a little worried about the school being on our ass about money.”</p><p>Jisung looked at Minho. “Um, but we’re still on for movies later tonight, right?”</p><p>Minho nodded. “As long as Jeongin doesn’t take all day harassing me, yes.”</p><p>Hyunjin swallowed then stabbed his salad. “Is Minnie busy then?”</p><p>“You’re really that desperate to hang out?” Minho teased.</p><p>“I like Seungmin,” Hyunjin admitted, and it was true, for the most part.</p><p>“I like him too,” Jisung agreed. “He’s kind of… a lot though.”</p><p>“He’s smart,” Hyunjin said. “I like it when he speaks Latin and shit. It’s kinda hot, actually. Wonder if he makes classical literary references when he cums.”</p><p>Minho laughed loudly, but Jisung looked like he wanted to die.</p><p>After lunch, Hyunjin popped out of a bush right in front of the English department and relished in Seungmin’s scared little shout. “Calm down,” he said. “And skip class with me. I want ice cream.”</p><p>“I thought you were on a diet.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that.” Hyunjin climbed out of the greenery with a stumble. “So, are you coming with me or not?”</p><p>“I actually <em> want </em> to go to class.” Seungmin began to make his way across the campus with the blonde following close behind. “Why don’t you go bother Jisung?”</p><p>“He’s being bitchy.” Hyunjin took Seungmin’s arm and hugged it. “Come on, I’ll let you take me to an art museum or somewhere else boring.” Seungmin snorted even as Hyunjin began to bat his eyelashes. “What about after school, Minnie? Won’t that work?”</p><p>“Nope, I have a family thing.”</p><p>“You always have family things.”</p><p>“Yup.” He wrenched his arm away as they reached a building, and Hyunjin faintly remembered that Jisung had the same art class with Seungmin at this time. “Alright, I gotta go.” Hyunjin glanced up at the hand that began to riffle his hair, as if he were a fucking dog, and he didn’t say a word as Seungmin climbed up the steps into the red-bricked building. “See you tomorrow. Text me if you need anything, and I mean <em> need </em>, Hyunjin.”</p><p>“I need your monster cock.”</p><p>Seungmin simply smiled and waved goodbye. He disappeared into the building as other students brushed past Hyunjin, walking or rushing to get to their classes. And in what felt like a crowd, Hyunjin was, oddly, alone. It nearly made him shudder, and so he turned on his heel. He made his way across the newly-cut grass, passing some statue of a founder, some intricate fountain, and he kept walking, kept walking, kept walking, until he began to see the beginnings of a tall forest past campus. He reached the manmade pond behind a biological sciences building, and it wasn’t very big, but its clear blue surface rippling, and those bright fishes underneath, made it pleasing to look at. On his Instagram, Hyunjin had a picture or two of himself here.</p><p>He crouched on the dirt shore, patched with longer blades of green and some carindal flowers waving starkly red against the sky; he stared at the resting turtle beside him, then at the pale pink water lilies walking the water. Hyunjin parted his lips, took a breath, and then he waited. He shut his eyes too, though not to think or to take in the beauty of artificially-crafted nature before him. He counted in his head: 1, 2, 3,... 80, 81, 82-”</p><p>Changbin appeared next to him at 83 seconds, on one knee, leaning in as if to check that Hyunjin still had a pulse beating under the skin of his throat. Changbin’s face was a foot away, covered by a calculating expression, and Hyunjin met it with a smirk. He adjusted to sit on a cleaner grass patch, then he shifted his eyes to the turtle again. “Everyone’s busy, for some reason,” he thought out loud. “I think what baby bread said yesterday really affected them. No way they’ll tell me that to my face though.”</p><p>“Do you want me to do something about it?”</p><p>“No.” Hyunjin let his fingers skim the stems of some cardinals. “Not yet.” A short laugh made him tremble. “You know, Binnie, I wish I didn’t throw Jin-young’s phone in the goddamn fire. Just imagine all the blackmail material he had on there. Imagine the fucking Insta DMs. I had the entire world in my hands, and I threw it away.” A pause, and Hyunjin’s index traced the petals of a cardinal, down the drooping strips of cherry red until he realized it resembled Jin-young’s skin after a knife had dragged along it. Except, the flower was soft against his finger, and dry, save for some drops of dew. Jin-young’s blood had been wet, sinking into the grass underneath him, staining the earth. “Hey, when does Harvard take people off the waitlist?”</p><p>Harvard was crimson -- the school colors, the mascot, the bricks on the buildings. Blood was also crimson, but only after it dried a bit. When it came gushing out, it was bright, like a firetruck, like an apple, like cherries, like cardinal flowers, like ladybugs. It became dark once it crisped, when it decided to die.</p><p>“Around May, probably,” Changbin replied, unemotionally. He was still watching Hyunjin intensely, searching his face as if he expected to find something that would answer whatever he was asking internally.</p><p>“Lots of time to get a beta sissy cuck rescinded from Stanford then.” He moved to sit back, hands stretched out behind him, and then he lifted his face so that he faced the sun. Eyelids falling, he added, “And maybe fuck up some other lives along the way. Just for fun.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I’m saying, I think it might be a good idea to find out why Jin-young actually died.”</p><p>An audible swallow. “Hyunjin, we know why he died.”</p><p>“We know why you and I did it,” Hyunjin corrected. “But not Seungmin, not Minho, not Bang Chan, not Jisung, not Jeongin.” He turned his head, let his eyes open; he gave Changbin a dazzling smile he knew would shake up the other to the core. “Maybe you and I are bastards that have been capable of fucked up shit since birth, but what about everyone else? Something pushed them over the edge. I want to know what.”</p><p>“Most-” his voice sounded strained, the way a dog’s growl turned into a whine when you held it back hard with a leash, “of the others want to forget about it.”</p><p>“Not most. Maybe that bitch Jisung, or Felix, but not the others. I can tell they’re suspicious.” Hyunjin decided to stand and spent a great deal of time brushing dirt off his ass and legs. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea to find out what secrets everyone was willing to kill over. One of us is bound to start exposing everyone else soon, and if someone is gonna fuck up futures, I think it should be me.”</p><p>“But-” Changbin’s voice cut in, “you don’t- you don’t have any dirty secrets, right?”</p><p>Hyunjin ran a hand through his long hair, threads soft between his fingers, and he stared at the pond. The turtle was making its way to the water now, slowly crawling along the dirt by Hyunjin’s foot. Under his shoe, he also noticed there was a crushed cardinal petal. “No.” A breeze whizzed past his ears, made them ring. “I don’t keep secrets from you, Binnie. Never could.”</p><p>Changbin, for the first time in what was probably years, smiled.</p>
<hr/><p>Jin-young asked Hyunjin to meet him in the greenhouse a week or so before his murder. Hyunjin hadn’t thought much of it, hoping this was hookup-related -- he wasn’t really all that attracted to Jin-young, but he was handsome enough -- so he made his way during his third class period past some language buildings towards the weirdly located glass structure. It was quaint, not so overtly big that it overshadowed a nearby fountain and bench, but large enough to accommodate three long, bulky rows of raised beds and a small set of wooden bleachers. The beds were filled with flowery of all types, along with some easy-to-grow vegetables at the left, and the bleachers were mostly just there for no reason. Though, Hyunjin had sucked off various dicks hiding underneath them, leaving him to conclude that it was only there for fucking.</p><p>There was some storage there too but Hyunjin still abided by his hypothesis that it was for fucking.</p><p>He climbed up to the top and plopped down easily, staring at the mix of colors that stared right back. He’d never been much of a gardening person, not even when he took the class, so he couldn’t name most. As mentioned previously, he’d spent most of that semester just sucking dick, hiding from the teacher.</p><p>“Yo, Hyunjin.”</p><p>Hyunjin turned his head as Jin-young shut the glass door and made his way in. “Morning, sunshine.”</p><p>“It’s 12.”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Hyunjin crossed his legs as he watched the other make his way up the bleachers, abandoning his backpack. “God, can’t I be nice to you for once? </p><p>“No.” Jin-young sat down, heavily, beside him, but he kept his gaze forward. His teeth peeked out as they bit down on his bottom lip. His eyebrows were furrowed.</p><p>“Uh.” Hyunjin shifted, wondering now if he’d been wrong to emotionally prepare himself for sex. “Everything good? You feel weird.”</p><p>“Feel?”</p><p>“Like your vibe. It’s off.”</p><p>Jin-young laughed curtly, drooped his head down so that he was staring at his Saffiano leather Prada boots. “Heard you got into Princeton.”</p><p>Hyunjin couldn’t help himself; he grinned and tossed his head. “Yup. Got into Cornell and Dartmouth too, but fuck that. I’m on the Harvard waitlist, also, did you hear that too?”</p><p>“Jeongin is also on the waitlist.”</p><p>“What?! That fucking bitch -- he only told me about Stanford.” Jin-young looked up, straightened up. “Hey, maybe we should kill him.” Jin-young didn’t laugh. “I bet we’re both high up on the list, so if he’s dead, I have a better chance of getting in.”</p><p>“What’s the point? You already have Princeton.”</p><p>“Princeton is in fucking New Jersey though. Also I literally have Harvard sweaters, so if I don’t get in, I’ll have to throw them away, and that wouldn’t be very good for the earth now, would it?” Jin-young sighed, loudly, and now Hyunjin was getting mad. “Okay, what is it? Something has you in a shit mood, you should tell me-”</p><p>“I got into Boston College.”</p><p>Hyunjin blinked. “Uh, okay? And what about…. other colleges?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“...Nothing?”</p><p>“Not a single goddamn top twenty.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he surged closer to take Jin-young’s arm. “Are you serious? That’s-” A stupid fucking laugh slipped out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. They probably made a mistake or something, it doesn’t make any sense.” Seeing Jin-young’s set expression, the hardness of it. “Shit, you know the admission process is super fucked up, right? It doesn’t really mean anything-”</p><p>“If it doesn’t matter so much, then why are we at this dumbass prep school? What’s the point of being here, huh? What was the point of grinding myself down to the fucking bone?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Hyunjin replied fast, not sure he could argue at all. “Just- Just let it go. You could probably transfer into Harvard, I know you can.” He smiled and squeezed his friend’s bicep. “I’ll find a way to help you.”</p><p>“Oh? Will you, <em> boomer fucker </em>?”</p><p>Instantly, ice cold water rushed Hyunjin’s blood, filled his throat, until he was hacking and startling back. The hand he’d had on Jin-young shot away, contradictingly, as if he’d been burned. “What did you call me?”</p><p>“I called you a boomer fucker.”</p><p>Hyunjin could feel his breaths grow faster, uncontrollable. He was nearly shaking, and of all things, his college acceptance was flashing before his eyes. “Why the fuck would you say that?”</p><p>“Because you fuck the principal. What’s he doing for you, huh? Does he fix your grades?”</p><p>Hyunjin was having trouble trying to settle his heart, but it kept bouncing and smashing around. He was compelled to clutch at his chest, treat it like a heart attack, but that would look stupid. He would look stupid. “What the hell is your problem?”</p><p>“I just don’t think it’s fair. You don’t just run a fake ass charity club-”</p><p>“We <em> both </em> do-”</p><p>“I don’t give a shit about that,” Jin-young nearly hissed. “I’m going to Boston fucking College, I have nothing to lose anymore. I can expose anything I fucking want-”</p><p>“You better not fucking say anything-”</p><p>“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” Jin-young was grinning now, probably high off the power he kept wrapping tighter around Hyunjin’s neck. “Are you <em> that </em> scared of being rescinded? If I exposed the club, you would probably lose your acceptance, yeah, but if I tell everyone how you’ve been sucking cock for good grades, you’ll be an embarrassment to the whole school.”</p><p>Hyunjin was really shaking now, unsure if it was to curl into himself or to lash out. “You wouldn’t do that.” Swallow, and an attempt to bring ease to his undoubtedly nervous face. “You’re my friend.”</p><p>“Think of it as me helping you. I get you rescinded, the principal loses his job, and you finally get sent to therapy for your little whoring problem. See? I only want the best for you, Hyunjin. Like a good friend.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hyunjin eventually went to the new ice cream place that opened up near his apartment. He licked up the vanilla drops dripping down the sides of the cone, and as he did, he made eye contact with an employee who looked a bit flustered but not particularly turned on. It was a bummer. He finished his snack then sat back in his seat and watched Chan taking pictures of Felix all the while Minho gossiped to Seungmin about his dad’s potential mistress. Jisung was there too, innocently sucking on a popsicle and watching the television that showed reruns of Friends. Changbin hardly ate.</p><p>It was Friday now, and oddly warm.</p><p>For a while, everyone stuck together, even ran into Jeongin at a mall and took some stupid pictures that would definitley end up on everyone’s stories. From there, they visited a pet store, and Minho impulsively bought himself a fourth cat. Jisung was so excited about it that he took around two dozen selfies with her. Felix offered to buy a collar for Bang Chan, who smacked him over the head with a dog toy. Changbin, for some reason, bought rope.</p><p>Everything had been entirely normal since that day Hyunjin spent with Changbin by the pond. No one would have guessed that the tension between all of the members was nearing a breaking point. </p><p>When it started to get dark, Hyunjin called an Uber Black and waved goodbye to the others. He noticed Jisung was still holding Minho’s new cat, but he didn’t think much of it. He boarded a not-particularly-special Camaro and scrolled his social media again. He replied to some comments on his latest post, spamming hearts and thanks. </p><p>He took a bath the second he walked into the penthouse. He threw in a bath bomb that unfortunately made the water look like piss, drained it all, then tried again, this time with a Lush Intergalactic bath bomb. Much better. He undressed, obviously, but kept the rosary on, then sunk into the hot water all the while blasting Mozart, and then after he remembered he wasn’t that type of dramatic, he played Cardi B’s <em> I Like It </em>. Normally, he’d do daily scheming during his morning shower, but recently his brain had been in a weird haze.</p><p>From a platter of meat and cheese, he picked out some gouda. Suckling on it, he shut his eyes and considered things. He considered what would happen if he forgot about what happened, as the others had seemingly done. In the back of his head, he could see the photoset of him and his friends in their graduation gowns, everyone smiling because they had managed to keep from destroying their relationship somehow. It was a nice thought, so Hyunjin tore the gouda in half with his teeth.</p><p>It was too bad he could sense that his friends were still on edge. He had noticed Minho share knowing looks with Jeongin at school. He’d even caught Felix and Chan whispering in a library corner. In reality, it only seemed Seungmin and Jisung were making an effort to forget. This was getting annoying. Someone was going to stop being on the defensive and act soon, and it was probably going to be Jeongin.</p><p>Hyunjin crafted a little, simple plan in his head and then smiled to himself, alone in the bathroom, alone in the entire penthouse.</p><p>After the bath, he wandered around in another one of his long, thin robes. He skimmed r/ApplyingtoCollege on his phone casually, rereading threads on college acceptances and especially the Ivy League one. Looking through the rejections was really a form of self care; it never failed to brighten his mood, and in that moment, it soothed his stress.</p><p>It was only later, looking through Jeongin’s LinkedIn profile, that he decided it would be a good time to check up on his dear friend. Tying his wet hair up, he headed to the living room with the large windows, or better put, the windows that had essentially replaced the walls. Though night blanketed the city, a million lights set it aflame, sparkling so brightly the sun might as well have still been out. It took a long time to find him, to see the figure standing on the roof of a slightly shorter apartment complex right nearby. He could make out the outline of a camera in the man’s hands.</p><p>“Goodnight, Changbin,” Hyunjin laughed softly and then went on to bed, hoping his stalker was taking good care of that earring he lost.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. leviticus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybe they should have burned him, Hyunjin was thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reflection in the shot glass in his hand had made the idea infect his brain without warning, and now he was mesmerized by the whirlpool of his own gaze all the while he planned murder for a second time in his head. They had lit Jin-young’s body aflame after every breath had been pulled from his lungs as if by a string, one Hyunjin held the other end of. But if only they had killed him with fire, he kept thinking. There was nothing pretty about the state they had left him as he began to grow limper against the ground. It was only watching red, orange flames embrace him, crisp his skin until the smell of cooking flesh rushed Hyunjin’s mouth, that Jin-young’s brutal death began to carry the weight it was supposed to. They should have been more respectful; they shouldn’t have done the stabbing. They should have burned him alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If immolation was anything like the tequila that burned its way down Hyunjin’s throat, it was likely the best way to die anyway. Imagining it made Hyunjin swallow; the thought of heat fogging his senses the way alcohol did. He wondered if being lit on fire would turn him on too, and he would die hard and squirming and it was fucked up to think so vividly about it, but he couldn't stop himself. Jin-young had been his friend. Jin-young had probably deserved better. If only he hadn’t been a bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, Hyunjin.” A large hand swiped the glass from Hyunjin’s thin fingers, and his eyes climbed up to meet Bang Chan’s. The older one was grinning, and laughing, but Hyunjin could only blink. His mouth parted; Chan’s voice filled the air: “No more alcohol for you, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking— “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetheart</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down.” Chan laughed again anyway as he set the shot upside down on a side table already cluttered with half-empty glasses, beer bottles, and some spilled chunky liquid that made Hyunjin gag. “Hey, hey.” Chan put his hands on the other’s shoulders, applying pressure, so Hyunjin would keep from fully standing. He plopped back into the metallic-colored couch, and then he groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Channie,” Hyunjin whined. “My head hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think someone spiked your drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno.” Hyunjin’s headache pounded at the temples, and it only grew worse as he shook his head. “I’ve been with Hoe the whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” came the curt reply of the person sitting next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin tried to move forward again, but Chan kept holding him down, so Hyunjin resorted to pressing his face into the warmth of Chan’s abdomen. Voice muffled by the thin, charcoal fabric of the older’s tank, he murmured, “I think you should carry me back to your room. Tuck me in…” Hyunjin trailed off as Minho wrapped his arms around his torso then peeled him off of Chan’s and normally, Hyunjin would have complained, but Minho’s skin was oddly cold to the touch. It made the stuffy, sweaty party a little more bearable; the heat of so many bodies was, for once, incredibly not-erotic to Hyunjin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Jinnie,” Chan teased, somehow still smiling. “I gotta go real quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go where?” Minho was pulling Hyunjin onto his lap, and Hyunjin curled up there like a good boy, for once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix needs a ride home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just call an Uber,” Hyunjin grumbled, letting his warm face cool against Minho’s neck. “What are you -- his dad?” Then, mumbling, “or daddy-?” He yelped absurdly loud as Minho gave him an, admittedly, light slap on the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure the party doesn’t get too crazy while you’re gone,” Minho offered. “But a lot of people are leaving already anyway.” It was Monday; it was a school night. “Can’t Felix wait a little?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I need to help him sneak in before his parents notice he’s gone. It’s a big hassle.” Chan made a greeting noise that made Hyunjin turn his head back to see a figure in a sweater pushing, slipping between, either people or tall blurry molds that kept swinging their hips to music and making noises that could have been chatter and shouting. The lights were reflecting off of them, shining straight into Hyunjin’s irises and making it so he had to blink wetness away from his eyes. Felix became entirely visible to him then, holding a little plate with some brownies on it; Hyunjin instantly noticed that his sweater was one of those $2,400 oversized Gucci ones with an enormous logo over the chest. Felix’s mouth was moving, and though the music wasn’t particularly loud, it left his ears ringing; he could hardly hear a thing Felix said. “Alright,” he heard Chan say instead. “We should get going then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin blinked and vaguely heard Minho respond. He was busy eyeing up Felix underneath the glare of a chandelier, noticing some sweat beaded around the boy’s hairline. There was a rosy flush to his cheeks too, and Hyunjin was tempted to make a joke about it, but Felix looked warm, hot even. Burning up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix was saying, “Yeah, Chan, you’re coming back directly after you drop me off, right? I don’t want you to leave the party going on without you being here and then people start breaking shit again and…” He rolled his eyes, but smiled, as Chan waved a hand dramatically to silence him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop. Don’t worry about it. You need to focus on getting home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anywhere else to go this late?” Minho piped in, rubbing soothingly at Hyunjin’s back. It wasn’t a surprise his eyelids instantly went heavy, and he shifted to get more comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are some public school parties going on right now,” Felix answered before Chan could seemingly put a hand over his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan ended up flicking the side of Felix’s head before letting his hand fall onto a hip. “Yeah. That. But I’m not just gonna abandon my own party. Like, I know I’m a bit of a dumbass, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you go to a public school party?” Hyunjin yawned, then craned his neck back to look at him directly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fun,” Chan said, and knowing him, it was the only justification he needed. The two once again dismissed themselves, and while Minho wiggled his fingers at him and Felix lazily, Hyunjin only watched. He saw them make their way past a set of dark wood stairs where a couple sat on the first step -- they were blurry enough that Hyunjin couldn't decipher gender -- with their tongues in each other’s mouths. He focused on their clothes, trying to make out brand names because he was shameless about being shallow these days. There was a Gucci sweater, a pair Louis Vuitton shoes, some jeans that looked like shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin.” He looked back at Minho. “Open up.” Hyunjin did as told and wasted no time in closing his mouth around the sweet brownie Minho put into his mouth. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s weed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shame,” Hyunjin mumbled between chews as he finally moved off of his friend to flop back onto the couch. After swallowing, he parted his lips, placed a needy expression over his face, so Minho would be nice enough to feed him another brownie. Minho, unsurprisingly, simply placed Felix’s brownie plate onto his thighs. “Mm.” Grumbling, Hyunjin took another brownie, manually. “Channie is kinda boring. I don’t think he’s ever had drugs at his parties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I don’t want you to get extra fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little late for that, look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bang Chan lived in a mansion, a bit of a drive from the city, but it was hard to see that when it was stuffed with, mostly, other private school kids. The upstairs were off-limits, so while Hyunjin could see the stairs going up, it led straight into darkness, and around him, there were forms that were probably bodies rubbing against each other. The furniture was being suffocated by the crowd, if not turned over the hardwood flooring, so any sense of homeliness that existed was drowned entirely. The chandeliers were nice at least, hanging from the high ceilings in all their crystal, tiered, intricate glory, lining the wide, long living room, with Greek-style pillars cutting it all into sections.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho.” He swallowed, and Hyunjin realized he was still watching the couple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your sexuality?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho slung one arm over the back of the couch, and the other pulled his phone out of his tight leather pants. He tapped at it with a finger, hardly looking at the screen; his eyes were running themselves up Hyunjin’s body. “For the right amount of money— whatever you need it to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to be gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s gonna cost extra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin groaned and ran fingers through his hair. “How about bisexual?” He blinked then quickly added, “Wait, no. I need to know the price first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scared your debt to me is gonna reach the hundred thousands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hyunjin grumbled, “just cautious. It’s called being fiscally responsible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case, you probably shouldn’t consider paying me to fuck you, if that’s what you want.” Hyunjin glanced over and actually flinched at the precise, color-coded Excel sheet Minho was examining. It had a bit of pink theme going on, and Hyunjin’s name in some obnoxiously cursive font at the top, as if Minho needed to constantly remind himself that he was staring at the debt of Hyunjin, of all people. “Let’s see, your sex-related favors from me are pretty small. So far the biggest expense was that time last year when you sent a prostate stimulator to my house.” Hyunjin’s parents, that time, had decided to visit their fucking son for once, and Hyunjin had panicked and quickly changed the delivery address of some </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d ordered to Minho’s place. “Don’t let me scare you though. If you need me to be gay for you, just hand over the cash or let me know to add it to the bill.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bastard. Minho was a bastard. He was smiling with a little tilt of his head that made one dangling earring swing; it was fauxly amicable -- gentle and encouraging. The issue was that Hyunjin knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>that Minho knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hyunjin was not about to dig his financial grave any deeper. It was nearly impossible to mess with, or bully, Minho for this reason. All things considered, Hyunjin was at least smart enough to fear him intensely. And really, that wasn’t so bad. Hyunjin only wanted to be friends with bastards: he wasn’t interested in trust, just power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Hyunjin had planned Friday night was simple, and it came in bullet points. The first was not to mess with Minho, because Minho could, and would, destroy him. Like a true friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin looked away, saying, under his breath, “Forget it. I’ll have someone else fuck me.” Food in his belly had helped settle his drunken state somewhat, just enough to notice Jisung talking to someone not far away. “Oh, look, it’s Sungie. Maybe I should ask him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chan’ll kill you if you fuck in any of the bedrooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin ignored that, inching to the side so he could rest his head on Minho’s shoulder. “Jisung’s confirmed het though. Guess I’ll have to find someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho raised a brow and halfway turned to look at Hyunjin’s frown. “Confirmed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he told me.” Hyunjin let out a little laugh and wished there was a fourth brownie melting on his tongue. “I didn’t want to believe him since he acts like such a massive faggot, but he rejected me, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think he’s confirmed straight because he didn’t want to fuck you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The second point to his plan was to work backwards. Obviously, Hyunjin wanted to hunt down Chan and say, “Hey, why the fuck did you kill Jin-young so violently? What motivated you?” but that was dangerous. He wanted to hunt down Minho for bringing knives, similarly, but Minho was untouchable. He also wanted to kill Jeongin for being such a pain in the ass, but he didn’t have any dirt on Jeongin, and he wasn’t sure if his role in Jin-young’s murder had been that significant yet. That, of course, didn’t stop Jeongin from feeling like he was out to get him. So, from all these conclusions, it was only appropriate that he came to think that he should harass those who didn’t particularly pose threats at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It can hardly be said that Jisung assisted in Jin-young’s murder. He spent most of that time hiccuping and choking on his own tears, but he’d dragged Jin-young’s body alongside Hyunjin. He had even promised not to confess what happened to the police no matter. Maybe there was nothing special about Jisung, maybe he had only been an accomplice because he didn’t want to disappoint his friends. Hyunjin figured it was in his right to harass him anyway. He practiced grilling Jisung about his relationship with Jin-young, then donned a Gucci black velvet beret, half-inspired by Felix’s weird outfit at the party, and headed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had only lived in his penthouse for two years, and his childhood home, where he’d been Changbin’s next-door neighborhood, was in the same gated community as Jisung’s. He passed right by that old mansion, stone pathway leading to tall front doors haunting him more than he’d have guessed. He looked away from it quick, not wanting to see the obsessively neat garden or the marble fountain or the beige walls or the second-floor balconies. Jisung’s house was much nicer to look at, more homely, more lined with sports cars. It was a nice mixture of traditional and modern, with enormous windows that invaded walls, especially on the third floor, but a starkly flat bricked roof. There were plenty of oak motifs on the pure white, not beige, walls as well. There was even a garden squeezed in, but it was much more miniature, and it lacked a stupid ass fountain, which was good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin told the driver to come back in roughly three hours as he shut the car door, and blew a kiss just to watch the older man sigh. Smiling, nearly devilishly, Hyunjin tugged on the strap of an Armani messenger bag resting on his shoulder before spinning on his heel and walking past two bright Porsches. He arrived at the oak doors soon and pressed on the doorbell with a finger for a good few seconds before taking a step back. His smile turned into a small, cute little tug on his pink lips for the camera, then he waved when he heard a static noise. “Hey, it’s Hyunjin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin?” came a woman’s voice from the speaker attached to the doorbell. “Oh, please, come in!” There was the instantly recognizable mechanical sound of the door unlocking. “I’m just in the kitchen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay! Thank you, Auntie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering, he made his way over the marble floor, and passed two curved, wide staircases that led up, into a kitchen made up of steel and polished black countertops. The large island, with four swivelling, cushioned stools attached, was as carbon-colored as the tops, and Jisung’s mother was seated there with half a canelé on a plate. Some of it was on a fork she was just slipping into her mouth, and after some chewing, swallowing, and an embarrassed giggle, she got up from her chair. “Oh my goodness, Hyunjin, when did you get so tall? And skinny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, playfully. “You’re not saying I was fat before, are you?” He just about skipped up to her as she laughed and put down her fork. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, sweetheart. You’re always so on edge.” The woman was smiling wide enough to make the skin by her eyes crinkle as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around her in a quick, but tight hug. He kissed her both cheeks, and then they were both laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘cause I just got off a diet,” Hyunjin said. “Well, you know me, it was more of a half-diet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it ice cream that broke you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, stop, don’t call me out.” He sat down, clapping his hands, in the stool beside Jisung’s mother just as she was returning to it. “Oh, and by the way, we haven’t seen each other in months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m aware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need a gossip update.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, she threw her head back in a laugh, then began, “So you know that family that lives next door?” It went off from there; Hyunjin nodded and kept covering his mouth in shock whenever it was appropriate. He wasn’t entirely disinterested in local drama, but he was busy running over his plan in his head, and practising what he was going to say. At least with this time spent with his mother, Jisung wouldn't be able to kick Hyunjin out easily without explanation. That meant, of course, that Hyunjin could spend the whole day, maybe even night, in the house, harassing Jisung until he explained why he had allowed Jin-young to die. That said, Hyunjin wasn’t eager to stay too long. He didn’t want to deal with speaking to Jisung’s father at dinner. That would mean lowering the pitch of his voice, straightening his posture, and saying words like bro, man, dude, and homie. Watching your own mannerisms so your friend’s evangelical father won’t beat the shit out of you for acting a little too gay wasn’t very fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That in mind, Hyunjin showed Jisung’s mother his new rosary, and the two obsessed over how pretty it was together. It was hilarious, really, how in denial she was about Hyunjin’s sexuality, but that was fine. It made things easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hyunjin finally asked about Jisung, she was standing up to put her dish in the sink for a maid to clean later. “Oh! He’s up in his room. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, don’t worry, Auntie.” Hyunjin hopped off the stool and readjusted his messenger bag. “I came to surprise him anyway so it’s not like we kept him waiting. Besides, you’re much more fun than him.” He winked, and she was so overcome with laughter that she doubled over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin walked back to the stairs after all that. He ran his hand along the recently polished wood of the rail, and then felt compelled to wash his hands after he reached the top. Instead, he pulled out a mini hand sanitizer from his bag and used it as he moved past a miniature living area at the stairs landing. He was careful not to let any sanitizer droop off onto the carpet as he neared Jisung’s ajar door, and he lifted a hand to knock before stopping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N… No. I would hold you down- Yeah-” A giggle broke the deep, dominating voice Jisung was trying to pull off. “No, stop laughing at me! God, you’re making this so hard, shut up, shut up.” Hyunjin was rushing to unclasp his bag as quietly as possible. He pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, so-” Laugh. “Stop! Shut up, shhhh.” Hyunjin clicked record, and shifted to try to peek into the room through the open crack. “As I was saying: I would hold you down, one hand at your throat. With the other, I’d… be taking off your belt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin nearly screamed, was just about jumping in place from what he’d stumbled upon. It was a shitty angle; but he could clearly see and take video of Jisung on his bed, lying on his side, facing away from the door with one hand suspiciously in his pelvic area. With his other hand, he was holding a phone to his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well-- I would be rubbing you through your jeans, then. Would you be hard already?” Hyunjin slapped his free hand over his mouth, and tried to keep himself from bursting in and shouting homophobic slurs at Jisung. That would have to wait for now. “I bet it would hurt, hurt so fucking bad, but I wouldn’t take it out yet. I want to hear you beg for it.” Hyunjin bit down hard on his fist. “Louder.” Pause. “Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s hand was now inconspicuously jacking off, the wet sounds of him fisting his cock coupled with grunts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would pull your cock out, but I wouldn’t touch it. I’d think it looks cute, all hard against your belly. No- you can’t touch it either.” He laughed quietly. “No, take your hand off. Are we roleplaying or not? Okay, good. Good boy.” He tried to stifle another giggle. “That’s right, no touching. Yes, I’m touching myself. That’s too bad. I’m not the one pinned down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin wondered if the video would be funnier if he flipped the camera around, and so he did. Still listening to Jisung, he did a peace sign to the camera and stuck out his tongue coyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it hurts? Tell me what you want then.” A pause, and then a stuttering sort of gasp that made Jisung’s entire body shudder. “That’s too bad. I won’t let you-” A soft noise and then Jisung was restlessly shifting around, his bed creaking beneath him. “No, I would make you stay down. Me on top.” Hyunjin made sure the camera saw him gag. “You’re not allowed to move, not even when I start stroking that big cock.” Low whine, accented by Jisung curling into himself. “Fuck, it would be so hard in my hands. I wouldn’t be able to resist putting my mouth on it- No. Don’t touch yourself, not yet.” Jisung’s shoulder was jerking quicker, and unsteady gasps were beginning to slip from his lips. “Would you like that? Me fucking my own mouth using your dick like a toy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin didn’t gag this time, just raised his eyebrow at the camera, as if asking them the same question. He was terribly, terribly, terribly tempted to go live on Instagram, but for as dumb as he was, he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid. He began to fix his hair, instead, using the video as a mirror.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, you’re a liar. I can hear you jacking off.” Still, Jisung giggled. “You never last at all. Yeah, yeah, I know me neither, but still.” A soft, drawn-out moan reverberated in the air. “Mm? What was that? Be more specific.” A long pause, filled with higher and higher breaths, mixed in with little cries. “I wouldn’t let you. You’re gonna let me ride your cock, and you-” A shudder. “Fuck, you would feel so fucking good inside of me. So deep that I can’t breathe- Ah-” He was entirely trembling now. “Full- I would be so full, fuck- Just me using you, not letting you have the chance to-” Whine. “Please, please, please-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The commanding tone was cracking into a quieter, sweeter, more submissive voice that shifted Jisung’s entire demeanor. He was rocking his hips now in time with his arm movements, and when he had become nothing more than murmurs, whispers, and curses, Hyunjin decided that he’d had enough. He blew a kiss at his phone then clicked for it to stop recording. He adjusted himself, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. Just as he heard Jisung grow closer and closer, he smiled pleasantly, lifted a hand then knocked hard a few times, enough to push the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, Jisung screamed. He scrambled to sit up, pulling bed sheets over himself, and throwing his phone far from him. It hit a wall and probably cracked by the sound of it. He was red enough that you’d think veins had popped all over his face, and he was shaking horribly. When he saw Hyunjin, though, his wide open eyes began to blink excessively, and terror transformed into confusion. “Wha-? Hyunjin-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dumb fuck,” Hyunjin said. “You’re so lucky it’s just me and not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He stepped onto the enormous navy rug of Jisung’s room then shut the door behind him. “Go on, fix your pants. I don’t want to see your dick.” Hyunjin stretched lightheartedly as he saw Jisung, from the corner of his eyes, try to untangle himself up in the sheets before stumbling out of bed. He was visibly sweating as he pulled up his gray joggers and tugged down on his T-shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was staring down at his socks, and Hyunjin could see that he was shivering. His eyes were still wide, mouth opened dumbly. A noise came from him, almost like an “uh” sound but more pathetic. “Hyunjin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin hopped onto Jisung’s bed and laid back with a relaxed sigh, and then he began to smile again. “Sungie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did I hear? All of it.” Hyunjin was staring at Jisung’s messy desk, stacked full of notebooks and loose sheets of paper as well as an obnoxious amount of pens. “I’m still in shock, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You a-are?” Jisung slowly sat back down, on the bed, beside Hyunjin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can’t believe you’re a faggot. Not just a regular one, but like extra.” He swung up into a straighter sitting position, and Hyunjin’s smile had blossomed into a wide grin. He got to see Jisung flinch, his expression twitch. “Who were you on the phone with? Someone from school? Grindr hookup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung started to shake his head but refused to meet the other’s eyes. “Hyunjin, don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me.” Hyunjin couldn’t help his laughter. “In detail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung buried his face in his hands, and it was probably to keep from crying, based on the way he was clamming up before him, shoulders shaking. “Stop. I’m sorry. Please don’t say anything, please, please, please-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down,” Hyunjin grumbled through a pout. “You’re annoying when you’re like this. Come on, look at me.” Jisung glanced over at him between fingers, which was good enough for now. “I have some questions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Questions about what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jin-young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That dropped Jisung’s hands from his face and revealed bewilderment. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “What? What about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was really weird how you just happened to let him die like that. He was your friend. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Jisung swallowed, inched back and gripped the pearl duvet that was in a crumpled heap right by where he sat. “Why are you asking this?” His eyes had begun to shift around anxiously. “Why now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Curiosity.” Hyunjin considered his options. “Unless you don’t wanna talk about that. If you wanna change the subject, you can just let me know when you started being a whore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung immediately glared, and seemed to jump at the chance to shift the conversation. “Me?! Whore?! You don’t go a day without a dick up your ass, and you’re calling </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> the whore?!” He huffed, then snickered painfully. “Jesus Christ, you’re an asshole. I can’t do anything without you making fun of me, even if you do the same goddamn thing. Don’t call me a whore, and d-don’t you dare tell anyone about this either. I’ll kill you, I’ll-” Jisung blurted out, “I’m not gonna deal with this shit again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again.” Jisung froze; Hyunjin was high off of it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.” And Jisung’s mouth was moving but nothing came out; his face was paling, and then he was shaking his head just as he had before. “So much for not talking about Jin-young.” Jisung’s unsteady hand went over his own lips. “Let me guess: he threatened you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He met up with you and said he’d tell everyone you like dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry.” Hyunjin twirled a strand of his hair; he was elated enough that the sensation of tugging on his scalp was pleasurable. “I get it. I do. I know your parents. They would probably ship you off to conversion therapy, and maybe I’d never even hear from you again. You’re weak, Jisung. I bet you’d kill yourself.” He was surprised Jisung didn’t react to the jab, so he pushed further. “You couldn’t even murder Jin-young yourself. The rest of us had to do it while you cried like a bitch-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck do you want from me?” Jisung gave in, and he hung his head like a dog. “I know you want something, just tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin blinked then pulled out his phone. He tapped at it and ensured the video was saved before saying, leisurely, “I want you to do me a few favors, Jisung. If you don’t, I’ll post the video of you jerking off and talking about dick sucking onto Facebook. Your whole family would see it.” Though they weren’t touching, Hyunjin felt Jisung’s blood run cold. “Deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Hyunjin made a separate group chat, without Jin-young, a few days after he was threatened. He typed into it: “we have an emergency meeting today at 4pm cancel ur plans or ill hunt u down and shove my fist down ur throat”. Everyone agreed, and no one asked why Jin-young was being excluded. At the time, Hyunjin had been surprised, but pleasantly. He mentally threw away the prepared script for answering questions about Jin-young, and he was in such a good mood that he showed up to the meeting room early for once. He took over Minho’s chair and took in the power it seemed to hold; he could see nearly every inch of the room from here, no head or body moving required. It was the sort of seat a president was supposed to own, but their treasurer had taken it from the start. It made sense; Minho had always believed it was money that actually ran the world, and everyone else did too, even if they didn’t admit it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin arrived first and laughed when he saw Hyunjin where he was. He joked, “That’s the king’s chair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give it to him when he gets here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho arrived last, thankfully, so everyone else got to witness Hyunjin feeling all self-gratified and arrogant for a few minutes. When the treasurer arrived, though, Hyunjin was quick to stand and allow Minho to take his seat. He remained up beside him, which was good also, because it meant he had most of everyone’s attention. He noticed Chan was beside Felix, sitting so close to him that Hyunjin wondered if they had their hands in each other’s pants. Chan spoke up first, as is customary of a president, “So, Hyunjin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Channie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There a reason you called an emergency meeting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without Jin-young,” Jeongin interjected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just this once, Hyunjin humored him. “Very good question, baby bread. Jin-young is exactly why I called this meeting. He texted me to hang out with him a few days ago, and I thought he was just being nice, but then he started </span>
  <em>
    <span>threatening</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. He was angry and jealous at all of us for getting into colleges we wanted, and then he started saying he was going to expose the club.” He nodded, as all the boys shared looks with each other. “He wants to get us fucking rescinded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He-” Felix stuttered. “He threatened me too.” Hyunjin took half a step back, blinking in genuine surprise. “And I think he did the same to Chan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan took a breath, crossing his arms, as he leaned back into his chair. “Yup. I thought he was actually trying to fight me, but then he started talking about the club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did the same to me,” Seungmin said, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And me,” Minho said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” Changbin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me three.” Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all looked at Jeongin, but he only looked away, and it took a long moment before he admitted, “He said he didn’t care if it got him rescinded too. All he cared about was bringing us down with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imagine being that much of a conceited fuck,” Hyunjin scoffed. “He’s not even going anywhere bad. Prep school rots people’s brains, literally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if any one of us wouldn’t have done the same,” Jeongin grumbled back. “Don’t act like we’re angels. How much money have we stolen, in total?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho immediately started pulling out his laptop, but Hyunjin waved a hand wildly, hoping it would get him to stop. “That doesn’t matter,” he said fast. “It’s one thing to take a couple bucks for ourselves, like any other fucking charity, might I remind you, and it’s another to shit on your friends like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what are we gonna do about it?” Felix said. “Is there a </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stop him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, it was Jeongin who answered, “We’re gonna have to find a way. I understand him, but… I don’t think any of us want to get kicked out of college before we even get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin saw his chance: “I think we should scare him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scare?” Chan echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin nodded. “If we can’t buy silence, guess we’ll just have to threaten him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan was silent in response, so Seungmin said, “When you say threaten, do you mean we’re gonna point a gun to his head, or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down,” Hyunjin laughed. “I think we should just beat him up. You know, give him a black eye or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t that just make him want to tell on us more?” Seungmin snorted. “They’ll probably take him more seriously if he gets beat up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe-” Chan offered. “Maybe, we need to be a little scarier. We’ll tell him we’ll kill him if he tells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most surprisingly of all, Jisung added, “That’s not a bad idea. Should- Should we take him somewhere secluded to do it or….?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Secluded,” Hyunjin answered. “There’s a late party the day after tomorrow right by his house. He’ll probably walk there. Wouldn’t it be scary as hell if we, like, kidnapped him? We shove him in the car and then drive off with him somewhere even scarier? Like a warehouse. Or the forest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one by the park?” Seungmin murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I… know my way around there pretty well. I think it could work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin laughed. “There a reason why you know the woods so well, Minnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin smiled, and the mood seemed to brighten a bit with it. “It’s a neat place to paint in, do some cult worshipping of pagan gods, all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got ourselves a plan, then,” Minho decided, and he nodded to Chan, looking for his affirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan nodded strongly. “I’ll be the one to kidnap him. If there are any details, we need to work out, just text in the new group chat.” Everyone agreed. There was no contesting or arguing about it. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Seungmin was Hyunjin’s next target, the third bullet point on his plan guidelines. Like Jisung, he wasn't a threat. He seemed eager to forget the whole ordeal and return to his regular Ganymede statue worshipping. This, of course, meant his guard was down; he wasn’t even on the defensive; it made him perfect. But, Seungmin wasn’t an idiot, and he couldn’t be manipulated by Hyunjin the way Jisung could be. He had enough of a brain to know better than to trust Hyunjin with any sort of opinion, which really, Hyunjin couldn’t blame him for. He was dumb, mean, and liked to gossip. So, if Hyunjin wanted Seungmin to spill, there would have to be a middleman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was where poor Jisung came in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin curled up comfortably in the desk chair as he skimmed his social media for the fourth time in the past 3 minutes. The principal had left him alone for a meeting, and he’d probably be gone for another half hour, just enough time if Jisung did his job well. Hyunjin had given Jisung a light script, but ordered the other to keep it casual, to keep it himself, so Seungmin wouldn’t suspect anything. At the moment, though, Hyunjin was annoyed, listening on speaker to the conversation Jisung was having while also on speaker. He kept talking circles, kept complimenting Seungmin’s painting style in attempts to start a conversation, but continually getting shut down since Seungmin was so concentrated in a goddamn art class. It made Hyunjin want to pull his hair out, and just to make himself feel worse, he scrolled through Felix’s newest posts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just-” Jisung’s fuzzy voice stammered. “I was just curious about your technique here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, it’s nothing special,” Seungmin answered. “We should stop talking, by the way. I think the teacher is gonna get mad at us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s on her phone,” Jisung said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin shut his eyes in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She still might hear us.” A beat of silence. “What’s up with you? You’re being really talkative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talkative? Oh, um, I guess. Uh-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re nervous. Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I promise, I’m just- I’m stressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About?” Hyunjin could hear Seungmin’s smile in his tone. “You don’t need to be. It’s the end of the year. Nothing really matters anymore, and you’re going straight to your dream school, right? Nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… not school I’m worried about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, then a sigh. “I’m sorry, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” There was a crack in Jisung’s voice, and Hyunjin opened his eyes, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t apologize. I just wanted to ask if- if the guilt isn’t eating away at you.” They hadn’t rehearsed any dumb confession like this; what in the hell was Jisung doing? “I have nightmares about it, whole ass nightmares.” Seungmin made a soft noise in understanding. “I can’t come to terms with it, even now-” Another voice break, and there was a light thumping noise, as if Seungmin was patting his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. It’s been really tough for me too. When Jeongin brought it up at that meeting and started blaming Hyunjin, I wanted to kill him. I don’t want to think about it anymore. It’s the worst fucking thing I’ve ever done. I just want to forget it. I wish I could pull the memory of that night out of my head with my bare hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too.” Some other beats of silence, before Jisung continued softly, “I keep thinking about his family. Imagine how horrified they are, and all his other friends, and… Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this. What if- What if I confessed-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Seugmin interrupted, hard and flat. “You can’t do that. You’re right. Think of his family. If they find out he died because of a stupid fucking club… At least if it’s shrouded in mystery, it’s more respectful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s probably more painful,” Jisung argued. “Not knowing -- it hurts more, a hell of a lot more.” A shuddering breath. “I mean, what do you care, really? Your parents could bail you out, and you’ll just keep having a comfy life in another country or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha.” It was a weird laugh from Seungmin, one Hyunjin had never heard; it was dry, humorless. “There’s no way my family would bail me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jisung’s tone was shifting, and so was he based off the creaky sound that most likely belonged to his chair. “What family wouldn’t bail out their own son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that they wouldn’t want to.” Hyunjin started leaning closer to the phone, having entirely abandoned his social media stalking. “Uh, how do I put this? Uh. Well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lowkey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s not up to them. Whether or not they want to, it’s just… the cost-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin’s heart jolted in his chest, and he looked down at his phone, furious, but the call had cut off abruptly. Blood boiling until his face was almost red, Hyunjin stood up and slammed his phone down on the desk before he could break it in a fist. Jisung had probably run out of battery; he had warned him in a text beforehand that he’d been unable to find a charger. And though Hyunjin was about to smash his skull against the desk until it cracked open, he stopped himself when his eyes landed on the wall of cabinets to the side of the room, right by a window with crimson curtains drawn. He thought for a moment, and then Hyunjin made his way over. He skimmed the wood as he read the white labels on them. When he found his class year section, he opened them hastily and rummaged through folders for Seungmin’s familiar name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be preferable if the principal kept digital files on everyone, but he was, for lack of a better word, a boomer. He didn’t understand computers and refused to learn; most of everyone’s information was sitting in physical copies here because of that, perfectly ripe for taking. Hyunjin stopped when he saw his own file. Unable to help himself, he peeked in, but he just laughed when he saw it didn’t actually have much, if any, academic information. The folder was stuffed with the love letters Hyunjin had sent him years ago, and a few photographs of Hyunjin himself. Most of the photos were chaste, but there were one or two that were ridiculously sensual. Some, Hyunjin took; others, the principal did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Hyunjin found Seungmin’s file. He had incredible grades, unsurprisingly, and would be graduating top of the class. Past the transcripts and general information on him were, however, a series of reports and applications, many of which were denied. The reports and applications made everything crystal clear to Hyunjin, who found the situation so funny he actually began to laugh, not loudly like a maniac, but enough to be weird. He took pictures of the information then neatly placed Seungmin’s folder back in the cabinet. He shut it, dusted off his hands, then returned to sit on the principal’s chair. He texted Seungmin, “minnieeeee hang out with meeee” before looking up with a bright smile when the principal finally returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed him, then sucked his cock. After that, Hyunjin left for the bathroom as always. While brushing his teeth, he finally got a text back from Seungmin, which said, “Art museum?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin instantly texted back, “ugh yes daddy”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They met up after school in front of the manmade pond, and Hyunjin hugged Seungmin’s arm as they walked to where their Uber was supposed to pick them up. It was a long way to Seungmin’s favorite museum, but Seungmin had never been the type to talk excessively to avoid silence. The quietness between them was beyond comfortable; Hyunjin took the time to lean against his friend while he slipped on some Airpods. He listened to his playlists and didn’t utter a word to Seungmin until they had arrived at a curb in the middle of the city. Stepping out, they reached the base of around ten dozen steps leading all the way up to an enormous tan-colored building accented with classical Greek temple columns at the entrance. The way up was exhausting, but finally, they began to talk: Seungmin asked simply, “So, why did you want to hang out with me so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in love with you, Minnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Oh really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Hyunjin took Seungmin’s arm again, and he briefly wondered if they looked like a couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” He was smiling, amused the way an adult was when a child said something silly. “What exactly made you fall in love with me, Jinnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin hummed again as he took a big, exhausted gulp of breath as they began to reach the top. “I think you’re really, really smart. And rich.” He wasn’t surprised to see Seungmin’s lack of reaction beyond a laugh and a scold about him being so elitist. Hyunjin reminded Seungmin that he was probably more elitist than him, but he just ignored him. He usually ignored him, usually dismissed him as just some brainless whore. Funnily, Hyunjin wasn’t all that bothered by that characterization; he was, in fact, a brainless whore, but now wasn’t the time to act like himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin paid Seungmin’s entry fee, much to the satisfaction of the other. After that, Seungmin took the lead, pulling Hyunjin straight into the section furthest away from any contemporary or modern art. They ended up admiring sculptures, quite typically, and Seungmin wasted no time in pointing and starting his tangent about how that man right there was the Roman Emperor Hadrian who’d built the Vallum Hadriani and taken the Greek boy Antinous as his lover. This led Seungmin into the topic of homosexuality in Rome, and how the Greeks influenced it. Hyunjin nodded dumbly, not listening. Apparently now treating this as a tour, Seungmin walked Hyunjin down the exhibit until they reached the collection of Greek vases, and he took time to point out the ones depicting incredibly explicit sex; now, Hyunjin began to pay attention. Seungmin mentioned something about olive oil, and thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ended up before a large 1771 oil portrait titled </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Death Of Hyacinthus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which depicted a half-naked man resting limply against another, whose blonde head was haloed in such a way that it was probably meant to be Apollo. There was a disk by Hyacinthus’ feet; Apollo’s pale hand was tenderly touching his friend’s forehead. There were angels watching them, childlike, one with a hand at his eyes, maybe crying. Seungmin was talking now about homosexuality under Emperor Nero, and how the novel </span>
  <em>
    <span>Satyrica</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by Gaius Petronius, depicted it. He was just getting into the role of Giton as a “boywife” before he stopped, taking notice of Hyunjin’s sight on the painting. Hyunjin wasn’t looking at Seungmin, but he heard the laughter in his tone. “Hyancinthus was Apollo’s lover,” he explained, “but the god of wind was in love with him too. Supposedly, Apollo was teaching Hyancinthus how to throw a disc one day before Zephyrus made it circle back and kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin swallowed. “Do you really believe all that stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin smiled. “Do I believe there’s a god of wind that kills hot guys out of jealousy? I dunno. Don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you seem, like, really into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fun, I guess.” Seungmin’s arms crossed over his chest, and he seemed so relaxed, so unaware of what Hyunjin knew. “It’s fun to believe in something even if you don’t.” Hyunjin’s rosary suddenly felt cold against his skin. “You’re not religious right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably not a conversation to have in the middle of the museum.” Hyunjin nearly felt guilty, but only nearly. “Want to sit at the cafe a little?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Hyunjin stared up at Apollo's body, taking it in for what it was, and then wondering why Hyancinthus would ever go for such a twink. “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” It was such a genuine sound that Hyunjin felt like laughing. “Something up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you gonna pay for college?” Before Seungmin could reply, he snorted. “I mean, I think most of your scholarship applications got turned down? That’s so sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin. What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And since your family is so poor now, they probably can’t even pay a semester of tuition-” Hyunjin actually yelped when he felt Seungmin’s hand go around his arm, squeeze painfully tight. “Ouch, fuck, let go of me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold, low voice caught him off guard, and Hyunjin stared into Seungmin’s eyes only to find them hardened in a way he’d never seen before. He opened his mouth, forgot what he was gonna say, and then tried again with a little laugh. “Holy shit, you’re mad. I’ve never seen you so pissed off before- Ow!” Seungmin had dug in his nails. “Stop before I scream and the police come-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me how you found out.” Seungmin glanced around them, but no one had really noticed, and most who saw, or heard, turned the other way. Close together like this, anyone might have thought they were kissing, or hugging, or having a hushed lovers’ quarrel. “If you don’t, I’ll break your nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you had it in you to be violent like that, Minnie.” Hyunjin swallowed again, with more difficulty. “Then again, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who lit Jin-young on fire.” Hyunjin flinched as Seungmin gave his arm another squeeze, but then he let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your problem, Hyunjin?” It came out exasperated. Seungmin took some steps back. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he was smart enough to cut to the chase, unlike Jisung. “It’s a secret how I found out, but you don’t need to worry, no one besides faculty knows.” Hyunjin rubbed where the other had probably left a red mark, and he began to pout. “If you want things to stay that way, you’re gonna have to do some things for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin noticeably bit his cheeks, noticeably kept himself from saying something. “Figured. Tell me what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, I want to know something.” Pause as Hyunjin straightened up and gave his own arm a squeeze. “Jin-young knew, didn’t he?” There was no response, not even an expression shift. “That’s why you let him die.” Nothing still. “That’s really fucked up, you know. It’s just a dumb little secret-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that it isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin’s entire family had put on a charade of infinite wealth for years now: they hosted lavish parties whenever they could and were entirely submerged into the societal expectations of an old money family that hadn’t known less than luxury in centuries. It wasn’t just about Seungmin no longer being able to brag, it was about dismantling the social hierarchy of those who had been rich in the past and those that were becoming rich in the present. Things were changing, money was changing, and Hyunjin understood the weirdness of that well enough. His own surname was attached to generations upon generations of wealth, but they had learned to adapt, Seungmin and his parents hadn’t. “Well,” Hyunjin said, “it’s still kind of a dick move on your part. Whatever. Let’s go to the cafe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel like blackmailing me over a cappuccino?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An americano, actually.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The day after the club meeting, the one where Hyunjin convinced everyone to go “scare” Jin-young into being silent, he left his apartment and texted Changbin to meet him at McDonalds. For the record, it was a very nice McDonalds with uncomfortable silver chairs and touchscreens for ordering, and Hyunjin had been craving fries so badly he was willing to sit down and eat there. Even though, hypothetically, he should have arrived first, because Changbin was not supposed to be in the area, Changbin was already clicking on one of the screens when he stepped inside. Tugging down on his black cardigan, Hyunjin approached the other and tapped in an extra order of fries along with a McFlurry. “You’re paying right?” he asked, not looking at the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will I owe you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” They received their freshly printed receipt then waited in a booth for their order number to be called. Hyunjin propped up an elbow on the metallic table, chin in his palm, as he stared at Changbin’s hands over the table clasped together. He wondered aloud, “That’s a new ring, isn’t it? Looks nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not new.” Changbin shifted, but kept his hands where they were. “It’s an old gift. I’ve just never worn it before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it.” Hyunjin reached across the table, tapped his nail on it. “Real gold, I see.” Changbin stiffened at the touch, even if their skin hadn’t made any real contact. When they finally called their order number, he just about shot up to his feet, nodded, then marched across the restaurant to pick up their food. Hyunjin leaned back into the seat and waited patiently, not moving until Changbin returned and pulled out the extra fries. Hyunjin slipped two into his mouth before taking the McFlurry and eating that as well. There was a calmness that gave his heart the impression that this was just a casual outing, but he didn’t like the thought of normally going out with Changbin. So, he began, “You hardly said anything during the meeting yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin swallowed what he’d been chewing. “Didn’t really know what to say. Jin-young did the same to me as everyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Threatened snitching about the club?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Called me a stalker too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I told him about you like a month ago.” Hyunjin spooned some ice cream into his mouth. “So I guess that’s my fault.” Swallow. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin went back to his fries, but the clash of flavors made him cringe. “At least we’re gonna get him to fuck off.” He picked up one of the golden sticks then snapped it in half. “At least that’s the plan. You’re helping, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I mean, you’re gonna be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” Hyunjin threw both pieces of the fry into his mouth. “I’m happy you’re gonna be there, Binnie.” He had prepared what he was gonna say, but he’d forgotten all of it the moment he took the first slurp of his ice cream. Weirdly, he was nervous, not about something going wrong, but about everything going right. He hadn’t come to terms with what he had planned yet, though he was also vaguely aware that he probably never would. Hyunjin didn’t like thinking; he wanted the emotion of winning, of getting what he wanted, of killing, of hurting; he wanted none of the consequences it would have on his soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Hyunjin forgot what he’d said. “Yeah. It’s all really scary, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s it scary?” Changbin had abandoned his burger and was now leaning over the table with this concerned look over his face that Hyunjin both wanted to push away and latch onto. “Are the woods scary?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not that.” Hyunjin sighed loudly, dramatically. “The truth is: Jin-young… did a lot more than threaten me.” Again, Changbin stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it. But he hurt me. It fucked me up so bad that I didn’t even want to go back to school. He was so angry at me, Binnie. Princeton was his dream school, and he took out all his anger on me-” Somehow, he got his voice to break on command, and then he brought some more ice cream into his mouth. His eyes were cast down, so he couldn’t see Changbin’s face, but he saw his fists, curled so tightly over the table that were pale. “I wish I could do more to him- I wish I could really make him pay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin looked up, finally. He smiled at the rabidness in Changbin’s eyes, at the set jaw, at the furious shaking he was trying to suppress. “You would… do that for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll rip him to fucking shreds, if you want me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin reached over the table again, took his hand, and he felt Changbin draw in a breath, felt it as if it were his own. “Thank you, Binnie. Thank you so much.” A relieved, sad laugh. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He took a long bath, again. Hyunjin had gotten into the habit of doing that in the evening, and sometimes showering in the morning too. Ever since what happened, he’d had this urge to wash up all the time. He figured it was related to how the musky forest was still usually in the back of his mind, in the same place as the memories of the smell of cooking flesh. Hyunjin pushed those thoughts away quickly, berated himself for thinking, and then splashed some of the bathtub water onto his face. He stood up and stepped out before grabbing a pale towel off a heated rack. He looked in a tall mirror as he dried himself, wondering what Seungmin saw precisely earlier in that museum cafe. Gingerly, he touched his rosary. He wondered if Seungmin had seen him as the devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin slipped into a pair of baby pink satin shorts that didn’t even reach his midthigh, then pulled over his head a tattered T-shirt that clearly read, “Lauder Football”. He spent some time with a hairdryer before using a stupid pink scrunchie to tie his hair all up into a pony. Yawning, he went through a long skin care routine, brushed his teeth, then stepped out barefoot into his bedroom. In here, there was a wall that was essentially a window, as every modern place seemed to have these days. He moved to it and began pulling on the curtains so he could see the nightlife, but then he heard light taps, footsteps, coming from beyond the closed door of Hyunjin’s bedroom. He faced it, heart picking up speed in his chest. His maids had left hours ago, at the same time, as usual; he was supposed to be alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed a hairbrush, slowly inched towards the door, brandishing it like a weapon. Taking the knob, he swallowed his fear, made himself not think, and then threw it open. Again, he raised the end of his hairbrush warningly, and he shouted, “Who’s there?!” The answer, through, was obvious: Changbin was standing by a couch, fidgeting with his golden ring, staring at a picture frame sitting on a table. It depicted Hyunjin at thirteen years old, at Disneyland with Jisung. “Goddammit,” Hyunjin muttered before thinking as he tossed the hairbrush onto a chair in frustration. It bounced off and hit a rug with a muffled thud. “Jesus fuck,” he cursed again. “You scared me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin turned to face him. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Sorry,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I told you not to come to my place again. Not unless I invite you.” He’d never invited him. “Get the fuck out. Now. It’s about to be midnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You go to sleep at three,” Changbin answered swiftly. “But I’ll leave, if you want. Soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon? I told you to get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You went to that party the other day, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” Hyunjin groaned. “Yes. Yes, I did. That’s none of your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin moved his jaw around, clenching and unclenching. “You didn’t fuck anyone, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s none of your business.” Hyunjin took a deep breath and let it go painfully. “I can fuck whoever I want. I don’t need your permission. You’re not- You’re not my boyfriend.” He momentarily regret throwing away his weapon before remembering that it wasn’t even a fucking weapon in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A stalker. A fucking stalker. Look, you love me, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me, and I’ve accepted that. I’ve learned to live with you following me around fucking everywhere and recording me and stealing my shit. If I were a regular person, I would have reported you to the police, but you’re my friend. I gave you permission to appreciate me from afar as long as you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> touch me and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> come into my house whenever you fucking want.” He realized he was raising his voice so he quieted quickly, repeating, “You’re not my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin didn’t seem all that affected by Hyunjin’s outburst. Instead, he said, “So you did fuck someone at Chan’s party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> actually.” Hyunjin huffed. “But even if I had, it’s none of your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, then -- “Hyunjin, where’d you get that shirt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lauder Football. Lauder High School, the rival prep school to St. Sebastian’s, especially in sports. Hyunjin had gone to a game once, just out of curiosity, and he’d ended the night getting fucked by one of the enemy football players in the backseat of his car. It was a fond memory, even if Hyunjin never spoke to him again, but at the moment, it was bringing all this heat to his face that made him look away. “None of your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard footsteps again, Changbin approaching him. Hyunjin didn’t want to face him, but he saw the end of the other’s Dr. Martens boots right by his bare feet. “I think it’s kinda stupid of you to go fuck other guys if you have a stalker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say scary shit like that, Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin, meekly almost, dragged his eyes up to meet Changbin’s gaze, stabbing into him. “Does it…” He licked his lips, saw Changbin notice. “Does it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> make you jealous?” He was such a fucking idiot. Hyunjin knew it was stupid to ask when he knew the answer, but he wasn’t thinking at all, and he was desperate to find some validation somewhere, anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it does.” Changbin took half a step back and looked up at him. “Isn’t that obvious?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like Hyunjin didn’t find Changbin handsome to some extent, but the stalking had driven him paranoid and insane. Not to mention that Changbin was short, which Hyunjin wasn’t a fan of. He also moved back, until he reached the open doorway into his room. He realized Changbin had never been in there; the thought popped into his head randomly. “You’re jealous because you want to fuck me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t let you. Because you’re a stalker.” Hyunjin saw, again, that his words produced no reaction. “But if- if I let you…” He took one backwards step into the room, and he saw Changbin take one forward. “Hypothetically. In theory.” He kept moving back, and his heart had begun to beat quickly again to drum against his ears. “What would you…?” He stopped himself, unsure if he could go on with Changbin nearing him, and the back of his knees abruptly hitting the edge of his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin, thankfully, stopped a foot away from him, but it felt like an inch. “What would I do? You want to know how I’d fuck you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you imagine it all the time.” Hyunjin snorted before he could help it. “Is that what you jack off to? Thoughts of fucking me until I cry?” Changbin didn’t reply, but his gaze skimmed along Hyunjin’s body, tracing every point on it, until he landed on Hyunjin’s lips, which parted as he took breaths too loudly. “Don’t even think about it,” he said quickly. “You can’t kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you asked how I’d fuck you.” One step forward, and now there were close enough that Hyunjin felt like he was suffocating. “If I were fucking you, I’d probably kiss you too.” Another glance to his lips. “But if you’re too much of a brat to let me, then I guess I would just put my hand over that mouth. You’re a lot prettier, you know, when you shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really mean for a stalker who's supposed to be in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin wasn’t going to answer that. He instead said, quietly, “What’s holding you back from doing me right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you don’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had no fucking clue what he wanted, and he made that clear with a conflicted twitch to his face. He was silent, waiting, not wanting to respond because he’d forgotten how to suddenly. When Changbin pushed him onto the bed, Hyunjin didn’t fight it. He crawled backwards some, watching the other move towards him, on top of him, slowly. He was tenting his satin shorts already, he realized, and he was shaking as if he were scared, but he wasn’t. He was pretty sure of that. Changbin wouldn’t hurt him. He was less sure of that. When Changbin looked down, Hyunjin flushed and snapped, “Don’t look at my dick, weirdo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the weirdo? You’re the one that’s hard for no reason.” Both hands moved to either side of Hyunjin’s head and now Changbin was clearly straddling him, nothing inconspicuous about it. “Since when do you get horny off people being mean to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do that,” Hyunjin argued baselessly. So embarrassed that even his ears were heating up, he snapped, “Shut up, stop talking. M-Make yourself useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin swallowed. “I d-don’t know, but you can’t kiss me. You can’t fuck me either-” He cut himself off with a stifled, high sound as Changbin reached down with one hand to grope him and squeeze. “Shit.” The worst of it was that Changbin was still expressionless, as if there was nothing strange about what was happening at all. It made Hyunjin angrier, but he willingly leaned into the other’s hand as Changbin began to rub, rub the smooth satin against the sensitive skin of Hyunjin’s hardening cock. He breathed lowly, quietly, mumbling, “Are you happy now? You finally get to touch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to take these off.” Changbin tugged on the waistband of the shorts, but Hyunjin quickly took his bicep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. I said you couldn’t fuck me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what are we doing right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arguing.” Changbin pulled his arm away, then brought it up again. He took one of Hyunjin’s wrists, and Hyunjin barely had time to react before he’d taken the other one as well. He pinned him down, hands over his head, and now, Hyunjin’s heart was starting to go into a frenzy, beating in his throat and making him choke. When Changbin shifted, so that the hardness in his own pants pressed against Hyunjin’s, Hyunjin shuddered. He wanted to reply something snarky, but a sharp noise escaped his mouth when Changbin began to move. He grinded against him, hard enough that it was nearly painful, and Hyunjin bit his lip to try to keep silent. It only made it so his whines were muffled, but loud regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a whore, you’re sensitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin glared. “Shut up.” He wrapped shaky legs around Changbin’s hips, pulling him closer even though there was no need to. In the back of his mind, in between suppressed moans and twisting and turning and rocking forward just to have a little bit more friction, Hyunjin acknowledged how fucked up this was. He understood, somewhere in his head, that he shouldn’t be doing this, but that only made him want to do it more. He struggled against Changbin’s hold on him, then yelped when Changbin’s grip only grew tighter. He felt as if he was gonna lose sense of his hands with the way the tips of his fingers were tingling, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting off </span>
  </em>
  <span>on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s brow was furrowed; he seemed mad. Hyunjin would have laughed if he weren’t busy feeling light-headed. Each rub of their cocks together, even with the layers of clothing separating them, sent shocks of pleasure up Hyunjin’s spine, made him unconsciously arch his back, chasing Changbin’s thrusts with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he was stupid, he blurted, “This is so pathetic. You want to fuck me so bad you’re rubbing on me like a dog.” He laughed, a giggle intermixed with soft moans. “But you can’t. I won’t let you.” The haze that came over Changbin’s eyes was dangerous, predatory, furious. Hyunjin got off on that too. When Changbin let him go, his hands twitched, and his wrists were red. They would definitely develop bruises, in the shape of Changbin’s fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin didn’t say anything when he roughly flipped Hyunjin onto his stomach, not even when the other demanded to know what the hell he was doing. He simply took Hyunjin’s waist and essentially hoisted him up; Hyunjin realized that on his hands and knees, he was the one who looked like a dog now. Shockingly, they both were silent when the clear sound of Changbin unzipping filled the air. Hyunjin was trembling so bad he thought he was going to be sick, and he was prepared to start screaming if Changbin actually tried to dry fuck him. Instead, Changbin pushed Hyunjin's smooth thighs together, tugged </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Hyunjin’s shorts with one hand so that they were uncomfortably tight against his dick. The other went to his waist to steady him. A hot, wet cock pushed in between his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shockingly, Hyunjin had never done this. But only because it was fucking embarssing. He gripped the bedsheets and whined lowly as Changbin’s hips began to rock, fucking his thighs, dragging against Hyunjin’s own cock and balls. Hyunjin’s arms were weak under him, and he was about to collapse onto a pillow before Changbin’s fingers wrapped themselves around a fistful of Hyunjin’s hair. With each thrust, he pulled, and now Hyunjin was being absurdly loud. It made no sense -- Changbin wasn’t even fucking inside of him -- but Hyunjin was burning up and delirious anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reached into his own shorts and began to stroke the head, he couldn’t last much longer. Changbin finished first, coating Hyunjin’s clothes and making a mess of his legs, but Hyunjin was quick to follow. It was horrible, but Hyunjin could only think about how the expensive satin was probably ruined for good now. He was cringing, and like always; post-nut clarity hit him like a brick. He could faintly hear Changbin trying to catch his breath, but Hyunjin didn’t have the energy to turn back and face him. He collapsed against the mattress, disgusted, nauseous. He said, “Get out. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed creaked as Changbin moved off of it; there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>zip</span>
  </em>
  <span>; the door squealed when it closed. Hyunjin laid limply, and he didn’t think at all, but he hardly felt anything either.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Seungmin announced, “Jeongin’s being secretive, even with me. I tried to get him to talk, but he seems suspicious of anyone that asks about Jin-young. He’s pretty adamant that you’re the one responsible for what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin pouted, sliding down the brick side of the building until he was seated on the grass floor. He crossed his legs. “Binnie told me that he’s been hanging out with Minho a lot. I thought they didn’t like each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably still don’t.” Seungmin stared at the nearly empty campus; it was the middle of class. His eyes followed a senior running along a path. “They just have a common target.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin whined like a child, picking at the grass. “You think Minho is after me? I haven’t even done anything to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to him.” Seungmin paused then said, “I talked to Jisung, by the way. He told me that he’s sorry.” He snorted. “And that you’re blackmailing him too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, snitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than that -- he told me that he tried to save me by turning his phone off before I said anything too damning.” Hyunjin blinked in surprise then looked up. “And he told me that he told Minho about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin began to laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, guess that’s why Minho’s mad at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, he really went and did everything I told him not to do. I should really punish him for it, shouldn’t I?” Suengmin didn’t reply, so Hyunjin smiled. “Why are you telling me this? Jisung trusted you, and now you’re throwing him under the bus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to get on your good side here. It’s information in exchange for you deleting the evidence you have about my… situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin wasn’t going to do that, but he was quiet for some moments, just so Seungmin would believe he was considering it. “Tell you what, Minnie. You keep being nice, and I’ll make sure no one finds out about your little money issues. And if anyone does, we’ll kill them too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. numbers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they were thirteen, Hyunjin discovered that a friend’s dad was cheating on his wife. His friend had cried about it one day during recess, sitting crossed-legged over cool grass swaying with the wind; Hyunjin could remember it perfectly, even remember their long snow-colored socks with a red stripe wrapping around the top. Hyunjin had removed his white sneakers, but his friend hadn’t; Hyunjin stared at the laces as the other admitted between sniffling that he’d walked in on his father kissing a young woman. And Hyunjin, by this age, was beginning to lie, but he didn’t then. He listened quietly, and when the bell for lunch rattled off the buildings of their middle school and against their eardrums, they stood up for lunch. On the way, Hyunjin’s friend was furiously rubbing closed fists against his face, trying to tear out the droopy redness that had invaded the whites of his eyes.</p><p>At the lunch table, though, Hyunjin announced, quite loudly, “If you don’t do what I say, I’ll tell your mom that your dad is cheating on her.” Jin-young, Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho had all heard, and their mouths dropped. The sweet boy who trusted Hyunjin with a secret had paled, moved his lips uselessly, but no noise ever came out. Hyunjin, on the other hand, experienced the thrill of control for the first time, experienced it so fully that he couldn’t control his laughter.</p><p>“You’re just joking, right?” had asked Jin-young.</p><p>Still giggling, Hyunjin had replied, “No.”</p><p>Hyunjin made use of every moment he shared with his friend, after that. He asked for massages, answer sheets, homework, food, money, and each time the boy would frown or flinch, Hyunjin would long to break into laughs like a ridiculous villain in a movie, but he didn’t, usually. He would mostly lay back and enjoy the way controlling someone made his mind whirl. With Minho, he made fun of how their friend had been stupid to trust him, to express his feelings and open up about troubles. For the most part, Minho agreed, though he advised Hyunjin not to take things too far. Hyunjin, the liar, promised not to.</p><p>Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. By the time they’d returned from their Easter break, Hyunjin still wasn’t bored of his power, and it would be a mistake to assume he did what he later did out of a need for new entertainment. Quite the opposite -- he was still entirely invested in watching his friend hurry to do anything asked of him, perk up as Hyunjin gave him a command.</p><p>Around this time, Seungmin had been reading Rousseau. At Hyunjin’s curiosity, he explained that when someone becomes owned so completely, they “lose everything in their chains, even the desire of escaping from them” and they grow to “love their servitude.” People become servants against nature; though it’s force that puts them in such a condition, cowardice perpetuates it. None of this is to say that Hyunjin, though, wanted to cut the chains on his friend out of pity or regret. Quite the opposite. </p><p>When Hyunjin went into his friend’s house, walked up to his parents, and let them know what their son had told them, there was no actual logical backing to it. Jisung and Jin-young convinced themselves that Hyunjin did it out of regret, while Minho claimed it was boredom with an unresisting captive. It was only Seungmin that Hyunjin admitted the truth to, for the same reason he had exposed their friend -- impulse. Hyunjin did it, simply, because he felt like it at the time. He’d had no reason to blurt out the secret, but no reason not to either. So, why not just say, “Auntieeee, my uncle cheated on you!” with a point and a “he told me so!”</p><p>After a long, painful divorce, Hyunjin’s friend moved away.</p><p>“If he’d done more than I asked, I probably wouldn’t have said it,” Hyunjin grumbled to Seungmin one day they were hiding from their physical education teacher. “Like when I asked him to give me a massage, he shoulda gotten me some water too.”</p><p>Seungmin had been very quiet, flipping through his very-annotated copy of <em> The Iliad </em> that he had yet to finish. When he finally spoke, he murmured, “You’re so dumb, Jinnie.” Hyunjin had pouted at that. “And impulsive. And scary.”</p><p>That was really how everyone viewed him: “Stupid, impulsive, and scary,” because Hyunjin had no conscience, no impulse control unless it benefitted him quickly and directly, and worst of all, nothing to hide either. He had no shame in anything, no shame in every nasty, dirty thing he’d ever done. This, of course, changed when they got to high school, but Hyunjin didn’t let anyone know that. He didn’t even admit it to himself -- admit he’d grown shame like fungus underneath his skin.</p>
<hr/><p>Seungmin said, “Look that could be us,” pointing at the blonde man on screen speaking to Daniel Radcliff, faces inches apart. The blonde’s eyes flickered down to Radcliffe's lips, and Hyunjin quirked up a brow as he raised his milkshake and sipped at a striped paper straw.</p><p>“What do you mean ‘could be’? Aren’t we already <em> homosexual </em>, Minnie?”</p><p>“But not for each other.” Seungmin paused, then added, “At least I’m not for you, anyway.” Hyunjin pouted, even if the two of them were looking directly at the television and not at each other. </p><p>Changbin returned to the living room with the bowl of popcorn and plopped down beside Hyunjin on the couch. He set the plastic bowl between them, as if building a physical wall to keep them separated, and Hyunjin was threatened to thank him for it. But that would mean acknowledging that he felt weird about their relationship, so he kept quiet. He listened to the crunch of Changbin chewing popcorn and the shift of Seungmin as he reached over Hyunjin’s lap so he could get a fistful.</p><p>They were watching <em> Kill Your Darlings </em>, some boring movie Seungmin was obsessed with. He’d convinced Hyunjin to put it on by telling him that it was gay, which it was, but it wasn’t really Hyunjin’s type of film. It was too smart for him -- making references left and right to literary figures he’d never heard of and involving some pretentious druggies at Columbia University. Funnily enough, Hyunjin had forgotten to click submit on his application there, though he’s pretty sure he would have gotten in.</p><p>“I think you’re actually worse than Lucien Carr.” Seungmin was referring to the manipulative blonde whom Daniel Radcliff was madly in love with. “Well, maybe not. At least you’re not fucking some old dude for grades.”</p><p>Hyunjin snorted before he could help it. “No, but maybe I should’ve, then I wouldn’t be on the waitlist.” His eyes trailed down to the popcorn bowl, to Changbin’s hand picking through it. He wondered what would happen if he reached for some popcorn so that their fingers would brush, and they’d both jolt away in embarrassment like in a teen rom-com. He then considered what would happen if Hyunjin took Changbin’s hand instead, lifted it so he could press his lips against the knuckles. Hyunjin sucked on the end of his straw until the styrofoam cup in his hands was empty, and Changbin had removed his hand from the bowl. Swallow. “Pause the movie.”</p><p>Seungmin turned his head, but grabbed the remote. “Why?”</p><p>“I want to scheme.”</p><p>“About what to do with Jisung, I’m guessing?” Seungmin clicked pause right as it seemed the two main characters were about to start arguing. </p><p>“I saw him today,” Changbin said abruptly, adjusting himself to sit more upright. “With Minho. Again. I think they went out shopping together.”</p><p>Seungmin hummed in thought before nudging Hyunjin. “You haven’t told us what secret you have on him, by the way.”</p><p>Hyunjin blurted it: “He likes dick.”</p><p>Seungmin blinked, then laughed. “You’re joking.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“<em> That </em> was his secret? Maybe he should have considered acting straight if he didn’t want everyone to know.” Seungmin, for whatever reason, looked at Changbin, then at Hyunjin, before mumbling, “I’m, uh, not saying that all gay men are flamboyant or anything, and I’m not trying to promote stereotypes- Obviously not, I mean, there is no <em> one </em> way that men-who-like-men act, but much of typical male heterosexual behave is rooted in homophobia, and not to say-”</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to explain anything. Binnie’s gay too-” He cut himself off, thought, then pursed his lips. “Or at least bi, I guess?” Hyunjin twisted around to give him a questioning look, and both of Changbin’s eyebrows rose as he tossed more popcorn into his mouth. </p><p>“Gay, I think,” Changbin answered after a beat. “Dunno. Maybe bi.”</p><p>“Wow,” Seungmin said. “Happy month-and-a-half-until-Pride-Month. How come our entire friend group turned out gay?”</p><p>“Minho didn’t.”</p><p>“No way.” Seungmin smacked Hyunjin’s arm, to an obnoxiously loud yelp. “He totally is. You think a straight man would own that many cats?” He looked about to launch into another rant about how making these comments didn’t mean he was actually generalizing all gay men to be the same, so Hyunjin quickly interrupted. </p><p>“I don’t think Minho <em> can </em> love,” Hyunjin sighed. “Besides, he rejected me, so obviously, he doesn't like men.”</p><p>“Hyunjin-” Seungmin stopped himself to make a sort of stupid, flabbergasted noise that coupled itself with laughter. “Is it worms? Is it <em> worms </em> you have in your brain? Don’t tell me you’re actually this stupid.”</p><p>Changbin snorted, which only made Hyunjin glare as the skin over his cheeks warmed. “Shut up,” he whined. “Don’t be mean to me.”</p><p>“You’re the one pointing a gun to my head unless I work for you.” Seungmin clicked for the movie to start playing once again before turning back to face it. “Whatever. Minho’s gay, and he’s in love with Jisung.”</p><p>This time, Hyunjin was the one making a silly noise. “No. Jisung is annoying, and Minho has some self-respect.”</p><p>“It’s not about that.” Seungmin opened his mouth, facing Changbin’s direction, and Hyunjin watched bitterly as his stalker tossed two pieces of popcorn into his captive’s mouth. “Have you ever been in <em> love </em>, Jinnie?”</p><p>Hyunjin buried his hand in the popcorn bowl then frustratedly stuffed his mouth. “Duh,” he said between chews. “You know I have sex like once a day.”</p><p>“That’s not what I asked.” And after Seungmin’s words, Hyunjin became horribly aware of Changbin’s burning gaze on the back of his neck, lighting the end of his hair on fire. “Fucking isn’t loving. When you’re in love, you forget about people’s flaws and all.” Seungmin chuckled. “I bet that’s why Jisung told Minho that you were holding him hostage. Because they're in love.”</p><p>Hyunjin made a face. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Why’d you <em> really </em> rat him out, by the way? You like Jisung.” He turned his gaze back to the film, to the shouting couple. “And you… like Minho, I imagine.”</p><p>“I owe Minho a lot of money.”</p><p>Ah. Of course. Hyunjin couldn’t help a laugh. “Is he your real target then?”</p><p>“I have a lot of motivations here,” Seungmin admitted. “But you’re right about one thing: I like Jisung. I’d prefer if you didn’t ruin his life, but I don’t want you to ruin mine either. Sleep on it a little.” Hyunjin had slept on the knowledge of Jisung’s betrayal for days now -- it was Saturday. “Let’s focus on whoever else you’re targeting next.” </p><p>“Baby bread and Minho,” Hyunjin began, “are too hard to fuck with right now. I don’t know if Jeongin even has a big secret-”</p><p>“Aaaah,” Seungmin singsonged. “You <em> really </em> want Jeongin out of the way, don’t you? You want to get him rescinded.” Hyunjin was about to say ‘duh, dumbass,’ but Seungmin kept going: “I shoulda known. I want to be angry at you, but I want Minho off my ass enough that I’d be willing to do something like this too.”</p><p>“Does Minho know about your family’s… issue?” Halfway, Hyunjin had remembered that Changbin was right there with them.</p><p>Seungmin smiled, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Of course he does. <em> Someone </em> has to help me keep up appearances, after all. But he doesn’t care to tell anyone. He’s not a gossipy bitch like you. Still, if we’re gonna be fucking up lives, I think our long term goal should be him.”</p><p>Hyunjin sighed, sliding back so he sat slumped over on the couch. “But we can’t do anything right now.” He scrunched his face purposely, to look as if he were thinking but refusing to out of annoyance.</p><p>“Felix and Chan,” Changbin thankfully interjected. “They’re also hiding something.”</p><p>“Great!” Hyunjin jumped at the suggestion. “New sleepover activity: getting rid of the other two gays in our way.” After some discussion and the movie finishing, they decided on the perfect drug to use. </p>
<hr/><p>Jeongin said smoothly, during the meeting, “It looks like they’re gonna close the case for good.”</p><p>Chan looked up from the laptop he and Felix were sharing to watch a TikTok dance tutorial on. Momentarily, he seemed confused about what Jeongin was talking about, but then he breathed a sigh in relief. “Oh shit. Well, that’s good. Poor guy they took in will probably get life for this.”</p><p>“I feel kinda shitty about that,” Felix mumbled, glancing at Chan with a frown as he picked the gray sleeves of his wool Balenciaga sweater. “Dude wasn’t even doing anything-”</p><p>“The police tried to question me,” Minho cut in casually, and he was skimming through one of his Excel sheets on an IPad Pro, “but I told them I was late for class, and they let me go. Guess they’re giving up on the entire investigation, or at least getting <em> very </em> lazy.”</p><p>Hyunjin shook the Takis Fuego™ bag on his lap before reaching for a chip. “Cool. Let’s all fuck in celebration.”</p><p>Minho ignored him the way he had Felix. “We should probably keep from doing anything weird in the meantime. No one post anything celebratory.” For a split second, he looked at Jisung sitting quietly at the other end of the table. “If anything, you might want to post something shitting on the local police department for giving up so easily.”</p><p>“Yeah, nothing weird,” Jeongin added, then looked at Hyunjin. </p><p>Instantly -- “What?”</p><p>“Just making sure you got that, Hyunjin.”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin scoffed, but Seungmin kicked his ankle hard to get him to shut up. Hyunjin, though, cried out instead. “Ow! Minnie, don’t kick me.”</p><p>“It was an accident,” Seungmin murmured just as Chan shushed the room, and Jeongin looked about to stand up.</p><p>“Don’t fight,” Chan ordered. “Don’t. There’s another club meeting next door.” He looked from Hyunjin to Jeongin, back and forth. “Alright, whatever beef you two have, don’t deal with it here.</p><p>“There’s no beef,” Hyunjin insisted. “Unless Baby bread wants to start something just because <em> I’m </em> on the waitlist too.”</p><p>There was a loud silence that rebounded off the walls for three incredibly long seconds, all the while Jeongin visibly swallowed. He replied levelly, “No, but it has something to do with planning the brutal murder of a friend.”</p><p>“I didn’t plan <em> shit- </em>”</p><p>“Guys,” Chan broke up again. “We’re not discussing this. If you want to beat each other’s asses, do it outside.”</p><p>Hyunjin wasn’t about to fight anyone, not that he ever did, but his current condition was especially less than suited for it. His wrists, underneath his sleeves, were patched with blue still and, horrifyingly, so were his hips. It had been a few days since what happened with Changbin, but the marks of that night had refused to leave him. For the night Seungmin and Changbin slept over, Hyunjin had even been forced to rub foundation over the bruises; Seungmin thankfully didn’t notice in the slightest. Changbin, however, had allowed his deep gaze to rest on Hyunjin’s wrists for too long. Hyunjin wondered if Changbin knew, and wondered how he felt about having left marks on him like that. Usually, Hyunjin would have found it hot, but currently, he was just conflicted. Because Changbin was his stalker, and to be attracted to your stalker was narcissistic, weird, and fucked up. All things considered, Hyunjin was not about to call himself weird.</p><p>Jeongin replied quietly, “I just don’t want to live knowing our friend died because of a stupid club secret.”</p><p>“Well, that’s too bad,” Hyunjin snapped happily. “Because you helped murder him in cold fucking blood. Stop putting all the blame on me just ‘cause you don’t wanna admit what you did.” There was no answer, and Chan only sighed heavily.</p><p>Things settled. When the meeting ended, everyone began to file out of the room into the hall so that they could head home. Hyunjin, though, lagged behind to interlock his fingers with Felix’s just as the shorter one was slipping his Macbook Air into his backpack. Felix raised an eyebrow but laughed some. “Can I help you?” his deep, reverberating voice said, half-turning the head of Chan nearby, who was adjusting his cap. </p><p>“Channie,” Hyunjin called over Felix’s head. “Can I borrow your femboy for a bit?” He swiftly ignored Felix’s choke.</p><p>Chan, meanwhile, laughed. “He’s not <em> my </em> femboy-”</p><p>“Then I don’t need to ask your permission? Perfect! Thank you!” Hyunjin turned on his heel and headed out, yanking Felix behind him hard enough that he might’ve nearly pulled his arm off. Felix yelped for that reason and begged for Hyunjin to slow down, but Hyunjin waved a hand to silence him. He dragged him out into the pale halls towards an open door that led out to a cool breeze and wooden steps. He led him down a few before stopping and plopping down on the very last one; he brought Felix down with him. “Ah,” Hyunjin said. “The air is so nice today. I think a heat wave is coming though.”</p><p>Felix massaged his shoulder as Hyunjin loosened his grasp on his captive hand, but didn’t entirely let go. “Yeah, my mom told me yesterday.”</p><p>“I’ve never met your mom, Lixie.”</p><p>“She’s not very fun.”</p><p>Pout. “Well, I wanna meet her anyway. Also, remember how I said I wanted us to hang out? It was like two weeks ago.” Felix nodded, and a smile began to tug at one end of his lips. “So? I’m waiting for you to ask me out.”</p><p>“I’ve been busy.” Felix played with one of the rings on Hyunjin’s fingers as a younger boy skipped down the steps and ran off beside them. “We can go watch a movie or something. My parents are out of town for a few days.”</p><p>“Let’s have a sleepover.” Hyunjin pouted again at the laugh. “I mean it, I wanna have a sleepover. It’ll be fun, I promise. We can go clubbing first and then we can hang out at my place. How does that sound? I’ll order the best sweets in the city just for you. Pleeeease?” There was no way Felix could muster the strength to say no when Hyunjin made his eyes wide and jutted out his bottom lip like a child. He groaned, but he was smiling, and Hyunjin took the chance to rock back and forth and shake Felix with him. “Pleeeease, Lixie? Please?”</p><p>“You’re so annoying.” Felix’s grin was wide enough to make him squint. “Okay, fine, but give me two days.” He groaned at Hyunjin’s groan. “Shush. I already told you that you need to tell me with time-”</p><p>“Oh, there you are.” The two looked behind them to see Chan standing there, one hand gripping one strap of his backpack, the other wrapped around the handles of a thick duffel bag. “I thought maybe you actually stole Felix.”</p><p>“No, he’s just harassing me,” Felix said.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m just harassing.”</p><p>Chan smiled warmly. “Well, am I giving you a ride or not, Lix?”</p><p>Felix untangled himself from Hyunjin then ruffled his hair. “Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, or on Wednesday. Don’t do anything dumb until then, okay, Jinnie?”</p><p>“Already planning on it,” Hyunjin said, seeing Felix rest one hand on a thin hip before mirroring Chan’s smile. They both looked cute together, standing on the steps with the sun blazing not far behind them; it made Hyunjin nauseous. As they said their goodbyes, Hyunjin blew kisses after Felix and wiggled his fingers teasingly in a wave. Only after the two had disappeared around some brick corner, Hyunjin allowed his faux friendliness to fall into a frown. Under his breath, he grumbled, “Bitch.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hyunjin discovered he had a stalker about midway through his junior year. He had been in the middle of remembering he was Catholic. Specifically, he’d been re-reading Leviticus and had spent nearly an hour sitting by the pond with a New Living Translation Bible app open on his phone, bottle of ibuprofen tucked into his ebony wool coat. It was only noon, but the sky was gray, and the clouds were gray, and the fog was gray. With his thumb, he scrolled through Leviticus, stopping right at 18:22, snickering at those fateful words: “Do not practice homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman. It is a detectable sin.” At 20:13, it said it again, this time emphasizing that the two homosexuals in question be “put to death, for they are guilty of a capital offense.” He clicked his phone off, and he was still making noises as if he were laughing, but it could have been coming from someone else given the way it sounded so far away. When he slipped his phone into his coat, it brushed the pills.</p><p>His headache was nearly gone, but his ass was still sore. His mind remained locked onto those words on the low-brightness screen he had simultaneously strained to read and read so perfectly it made the pond whirl in his peripheral vision. Nearly curling up into himself, he realized his crouch on the dirt was unstable, and he could tip over at any moment. He was living with the danger that he might just fall into the man-made pond to get eaten alive by the turtles. He put a hand out to steady himself, to put against the ground, and he realized he was missing a Bvlgari 18 kt gold bracelet.</p><p>He had been losing a lot of things lately. </p><p>Sometimes, Hyunjin threw tantrums about it; the time he couldn’t find a diamond earring during lunch, and he just about burst into tears, comes to mind. Whenever he made a scene, he would usually find what he lost left neatly over his messy desk or in his backpack, that was heavy, because this was back when Hyunjin was somewhat trying to keep his grades afloat. He had only recently attached himself to the principal, only recently started pouting his lip and asking him for grade help and, more importantly, recommendation letters. Regardless, the stalker would always return his lost item if he asked for it back indirectly. Hyunjin told Jin-young about it briefly. Jin-young told him to relax.</p><p>Whoever the stalker was, they most likely didn’t know about Hyunjin’s activities in the principal’s office. During junior year, it was only before and after school that Hyunjin would stop in his tracks while walking, turn around, feel eyes on him even if no one was there. During school time, he felt a lot freer, and safer than he felt in his own home. Stuck under the principal, bent over the cognac desk, he somehow felt less watched, even with the older man’s stare dragging over him like nails, taking him in, peeling off his skin. </p><p>Hyunjin fell down onto his bottom, wobbled. The pounding in his head had returned mercilessly, and now he was rubbing both his eyes. Pain had migrated to his lower back, like termites scaling up the inner wooden workings of a house to chew at the beam holding the roof up. The Bible’s words had wormed their way into Hyunjin’s brain again; he had no idea why; he had no idea what to make of it. When he parted his fingers, he looked between them to see a cardinal petal get tossed by the wind into the still water, where it slid across the surface. </p><p>Eyes settled on the back of Hyunjin’s neck; he could feel them.</p><p>And Hyunjin wondered if it was his stalker, for once skipping class -- or maybe it was lunch time already -- so he had come searching for him. Most likely, it was lunch time. Even so, Hyunjin settled more comfortably with his legs stretched out, and he allowed himself to forget his Catholicism again. He remembered the morning he’d spent in the principal’s office. He tried to mold the memory so that it was fond, and instantly, it started to rouse him.</p><p>As he began to rub himself through his pants, he wondered how convenient it was that no one ever interrupted him when he sat at the pond, but it was a smaller, quaint prep school. People were busy, students gave a shit about their grades. Hyunjin did too, but he was caring less and less once he realized he could simply jump over all the studying. All it took was being cozy to the principal who had been infatuated with Hyunjin since sophomore year at the very latest. Because of the small class size, they had multiple interactions throughout the years, and Hyunjin had never missed the way his hand always lingered over his shoulder. It was gross, incredibly, but Hyunjin liked things easy. By the end of sophomore year, he was already sending him photos and short love letters. By junior, he was fucking him.</p><p>And the sex was fine, all things considered. Hyunjin squeezed himself, achingly hard now, through the fabric. The clear outline of himself straining in his pants made him nearly laugh, but it also hurt. He unbuttoned, unzipped, and then breathed sharply when the cool air grasped him. He ran his index around the head, watched with a shiver as his cock twitched at the attention, and Hyunjin’s mouth fell open. The sound that escaped him was guttural, entirely too loud and unattractive for just a touch, but he’d always been insanely sensitive for no reason.</p><p>His stalker was there. Hyunjin could nearly feel their breath on the back of his neck. Not literally, of course, but their presence was overbearing on his throat, making him hang his head forward. When he wrapped his hand around the shaft, the heat of it made his blood steam, and he had no idea why he was so lightheaded. He’d never done something public like this before, never fully, and the knowledge that someone was watching made every sensation of his palm dragging against skin all the more intense. He didn’t keep quiet, he made sure that every high little noise was just loud enough for whoever was watching to hear. He spit on his hand, which normally would have made him gag, but he ignored the reality of it for now as he pumped, wetly. His hips weakly rocked forward into his fist; a silly smile formed over his face as he let his eyelids droop. He drove out the pleasure, even as a turtle crawling out of the pond locked eyes with him.</p><p>The knot in his gut was tightening, the muscles under his skin everywhere grew stiffer. It was nearly enough to make the routine aches in his head and back stop, or just shift further and further away as Hyunjin’s awareness simultaneously became both separate from his own body and starkly raw to every nerve tingling from his feet to his head. He no longer thought of the principal, not that he’d been very invested in those thoughts anyway. As he teetered over the edge of the high crawling up his veins, he began to only think of himself: his thin, pretty face with those full parted pink lips and the mole right under his left eye, the way his expression could come together to form something naive and innocent, and his long neck, dusted by the ends of his blonde hair, only half-pulled back. When Hyunjin finished with a shudder and breathy moan, he couldn’t decide if he’d want to over his own face or down his hot, tight throat. Either way, he made a mess, and he stared at the white splotches on his dark pants and on the grass. His hand was coated, dripping cum that he brought to his mouth and cleaned off easily.</p><p>He took in the salted warmness just as there was the audible crunch of someone stepping on a leaf not far behind him. Hyunjin turned, saw Changbin to be nearly trembling with his mouth open. He was breathing a little loudly, his face so red he looked like one of the cardinals. Hyunjin licked a clean stripe up his index, swirled his tongue around the tip all the while keeping eye contact with the other. He noticed Changbin was wearing a deep blue Canada Goose Langford Parka, standing in sharp contrast to the gray world behind him. It was just long enough that it would cover Hyunjin’s front, and so Hyunjin smirked, wiped his sticky hand on the grass, then stood up as he tucked himself back in. “Lend me your jacket.” </p><p>Changbin was quick to begin ripping it off, revealing a tight-fit black shirt.</p><p>Admiring Changbin’s biceps, Hyunjin giggled. “So, what’s with you stealing all my shit? It <em> is </em> you, isn’t it?”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
The clubbing went fine, except for the fact that Hyunjin wasn’t used to not fucking anyone right after spending a few hours dancing. He also wasn’t used to being so sober, but Changbin was watching and he didn’t want to drunkenly make out with a stranger. Of course, Changbin had accepted Hyunjin’s sex-obsession as a part of him, but they were both aware that Hyunjin shouldn’t do any of that while he was being presently followed, for the fear that Changbin might lash out. The stalking itself took place most of the day except for nearly all of class time and certain nights Changbin decided not to spend trying to record Hyunjin sleep. Hyunjin would always go out those times, or influence someone to host a part. This Wednesday night, though, was different. For obvious reasons.</p><p>Surprisingly, Hyunjin wasn’t a fan of drugs. Lots of dates had tried to slip all sorts of things into his drinks, and he’d been bombarded with weed and cocaine at most parties he went to, but he’d never gotten hooked on anything. Even more important than that, while on vacation once, he’d gotten kidnapped by the mafia for a day and held ransom until his dad coughed up a couple thousand. It hadn’t actually been very traumatizing, but Hyunjin had been left with the lingering fear that if he rolled up a joint, the men with guns would break into his house and get him for it. So, he’d never liked drugs, but he knew a few things about where to get them. One guy in particular had brought him to this very nightclub a few months back, very notably disappearing for a moment to go buy something from a shady man in a corner, then returning clumsily to try to date rape him. It had been so stupid Hyunjin made fun of him on the spot, at one point asking if he was even using a real drug, to which the other had specified it was GHB, before Hyunjin walked out. Hyunjin hadn’t checked at the time who he’d bought it from, so now that he needed it, he asked Changbin in advance to do the sleuthing. Changbin had agreed, like the good boy he was.</p><p>Felix was tugging Hyunjin towards the rowdy bar with spilled drinks over the wooden top and with every blood red stool already taken. Felix didn’t seem particularly keen on getting anymore alcohol in his system, though, so they moved to merely stand in some space between seats to talk. Felix had hardly gotten any drinks in the first place, and Hyunjin spotily remembered that Felix had never been a fan of drinking, not dissimilar to how Hyunjin felt about drugs. It was also a school night. Hyunjin had a dick appointment tomorrow and Felix still went to class; it would be a bad idea to get blackout drunk.</p><p>“Ugh,” Felix managed to groan over the bass of the blaring song. “Fuck, I’m so tired, and I think someone tried to touch my ass.”</p><p>Made no sense -- Felix wasn’t even wearing anything too skimpy: a dark mesh shirt and tight leather pants that did wonders for his ass. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was in a trashy purple crop top and an even trashier pair of short shorts. People kept touching him, but he was used to it, so he just shrugged at Felix. “We can go home soon, if you want.”</p><p>“Soon?” Felix made a whiny noise that didn’t match up to his regular deep voice.</p><p>Hyunjin cursed internally -- where the hell was Changbin? He hadn’t caught a glimpse of him once in the entire couple hours they’d spent on the dance floor, and now Hyunjin was coated in sweat and pissed. “I wanna dance a little more-” Like clockwork, a hand snaked into the pocket of Hyunjin’s shorts then slid back out cleanly, easily. It made Hyunjin shiver, and he glanced to the right to see someone with a beanie sip at a Corona without a word, staring at the single bartender running around to fulfill the crowded club’s demands. “Actually, I think it’s fine.” Hyunjin turned back to Felix fanning himself lazily. </p><p>“Oh, uh- Really?”</p><p>“Yeah, this place sucks ass.”</p><p>On the way out, Hyunjin reached into his pocket to feel the small plastic bottle that was roughly 3 mL. He hoped Changbin had figured out all the dosage questions they’d had with Seungmin, and if not, Hyunjin just hoped for the best. Felix would probably be fine, and if not, Hyunjin lived near a hospital. That in mind, Hyunjin called an Uber Black while standing out on the sidewalk freezing his ass off -- it was supposed to be getting hotter, but it seemed the icy wind had forgotten about that -- before he climbed into the back with Felix quickly. He used Felix for warmth, cuddling him as the other groaned and told him he was sweaty. </p><p>They arrived in just a few minutes, stumbled out of the car, didn’t bother tipping. They walked past a lobby with a patterned marble floor towards a golden elevator between two bonsai trees on the top of dark walnut side tables that didn’t match the color scheme and that used to piss Hyunjin off. But Felix leaning on him was distracting. The reality of what Hyunjin was about to do settling onto his shoulders heavily was also distracting. With a breath, he stepped into the opening elevator, and for once, he hated that every side of it was a mirror, hated seeing his hair all disheveled and his makeup smeared and his clothes askew. Hated his face. He turned, clicked the button for the top floor, and he could almost feel dinner making its way up his throat as Felix asked if he was tired. Hyunjin said yes.</p><p>“Fuuuck,” Felix laughed casually when they finally made it into the apartment. “I forgot what clubbing was like.” He stretched his hands over his head as Hyunjin shut the door. “Hey, can I borrow your shower?”</p><p>“Yeah, please, you smell like ass.”</p><p>Felix rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Where’d I leave my shit?”</p><p>“On my bed, I think-” Hyunjin noticed Felix already moving past the living room, so he quickly called out, “Hey, you want a bellini? You hardly drank at the bar.”</p><p>Felix made a noise. “I have a test tomorrow.”</p><p>Hyunjin matched his noise, but made it whinier. “You’ll be fine. Come on, I’ll hardly put any alcohol in it.” He pouted. “Please, Lixie? I want you to relax.”</p><p>Felix rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his own lips, before giving in. “Ugh, you’re not going to let me say no, are you?” Hyunjin shook his head, and a pleased smile settled over his face. “Fine. Don’t drug me or anything.” He turned on his heel, and Hyunjin bit down on his cheeks to keep from laughing. After the other disappeared into the bedroom and probably went into the bathroom too, Hyunjin got to work.<br/>
He made his way over quartz countertops to his smart fridge, opening it to take out 2 peaches. While peeling them, he began to wonder if he might be taking this too far -- there was probably a much better way to go about this -- but this was funny. It was fucked up, but it was hilarious too. He sliced the peaches in halves, removed the pits, then used a food processor to make the purée. After that, he left it to cool in the fridge. He took the time to pull out his phone and type into it, “thank u binnie &lt;3” before hesitating. Hyunjin wondered if he was being a little too nice to Changbin, he wondered if this was gonna come back and bite him in the ass. </p><p>Eh. Whatever.</p><p>Hyunjin took a quick selfie with a peace sign and kissy lips then clicked send. Changbin would probably print it out, maybe even staple it to his wall like some sort of serial killer, but the thought didn’t bother him somehow. Even the fact that Changbin might masturbate to it didn’t bother him anymore. </p><p>Felix always took really long showers, so Hyunjin was in no rush to sort out his pajamas or text Seungmin about how he was about to “do the thing”. He laid in bed for a while, scrolling through social media, thinking about how cute Felix was. </p><p>It had always annoyed Hyunjin; when Felix appeared at school two years, he had been tanner with a toothy smile that charmed his way into everyone’s lives. He had instantly fit snugly at their lunch table and joined in on their money laundering club without too much of a complaint. For all his sweetness, he was still a rich bitch, one that didn’t seem to care too much about the poor people they were supposed to be helping. And even if he rested your head on his lap while you ranted about how shit your day was, he said nothing of his. Hyunjin had immediately considered him two-faced, which was fine -- he had no interest in trust -- but he didn’t like that he wasn’t seeing the real Felix.</p><p>Every time he teased him, he hoped it was chipping away at the mask, hoped it was cutting him deeper and deeper, until he finally cracked.</p><p>“Ay, I’m out.”</p><p>“Cool. I’m gonna shower real quick. Then I’ll make the drinks.”</p><p>Hyunjin finished in under five minutes, and he let his wet hair drip down the back of his T-shirt as he stepped out in only that and shorts. In comparison, Felix looked overdressed, in a snow white sweater and some gray Brunello Cucinelli sweatpants, that were probably around $1,400 give or take, but still ultimately, sweatpants. “Hey, Lixie?”</p><p>“Mm?” He was lounging on the couch, texting Chan, probably.</p><p>“Aren’t you hot as fuck?” Hyunjin made his way over to the fridge, to take out the Prosecco and finally make the goddamn bellinis. And of course, sprinkle in the GHB into Felix’s cup.</p><p>Felix laughed. “Mm, I’m <em> always </em> hot though.”</p><p>“Don’t say that or I’ll kiss you.” Hyunjin’s voice was casual, but his hands began to tremble once he finished pouring the purée equally into the two champagne flutes and doing the same with the Prosecco. He gently stirred the foaming drinks before reaching into the pocket of his pajama shorts, pulling out the tiny bottle filled with clear liquid and wasting no time in mixing it in. After that, he reached under the counter to toss the plastic in a waste bin. “Alright. Come here.”</p><p>“For my kiss?”</p><p>“Mhm.” Hyunjin took both glasses and made his way over, so that a sleepily smiling Felix could take the drink being extended to him. He did, and then they tapped the glasses. They sipped. Felix smacked his lips.</p><p>“Pretty good.”</p><p>Hyunjin had been told GHB didn’t really have a taste, though it was a bit salty, but Felix wasn’t a big drinker. He probably didn’t even notice. So, Hyunjin smiled and downed as much of his drug-free bellini as he could in one gulp. They spent some time after that in Hyunjin’s bed rewatching <em> Heathers </em> and eating sweets. They only got about 20 minutes into the movie before Hyunjin felt Felix shift beside him, breathing turned heavy; when he turned, he saw a pretty flush scattered over his cheeks, freckles, ears. His eyelids had begun to droop as well, and Hyunjin smirked as he pressed the spacebar on his Macbook, pausing the film. “Lixie.”</p><p>A ditzy smile crawled over Felix’s lips. “Mm?”</p><p>“You okay, sweetie?” Felix’s response was to let his head fall onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, and it was cute, really, so Hyunjin smoothed his hair, pet him. “Guess not.”</p><p>“I’m fine-” Not slurred exactly, but nearly there. “Dunno just- Feeling happy.”</p><p>“Weird.”</p><p>A giggle. “Yeah, weird.”</p><p>Hyunjin glanced down then saw Felix’s phone; it was an IPhone XR, as he’d suspected, with a glittery, galaxy pink case. He took it, looked it over, then smiled. “Lixie, baby.”</p><p>“Mmmmmm?” </p><p>“Can you look here for me?”</p><p>Felix faced the phone, and Hyunjin bit his lip to stifle a laugh as the phone unlocked and he got the chance to start looking through it. The first thing he did was go straight to the messaging apps, and to keep Felix busy, Hyunjin put on an upbeat music playlist on his laptop. With the other distracted and dancing in his seat on the bed sheets, Hyunjin frowned as he clicked Chan’s name to see absolutely nothing, not a single text between them. He skipped over the “dad” and “mom” contacts to skim the rest, only to quickly learn that Felix had no texts with anyone. When he reached his own name, however, Hyunjin remembered that he’d texted Felix all the details about their sleepover some hours ago, but there was nothing there. </p><p>So Felix had deleted all of his text conversations, except for the ones with parents.</p><p>Hyunjin went to photos, but a good majority of it were memes, and the rest were selfies and general normal things. Annoyed, Hyunjin went to Instagram, but all the direct messages were gone, deleted too probably, since Hyunjin had sent him something through DM recently. He went through Snapchat, but that was unsurprisingly all gone as well. “God, Lix, don’t you sext anyone?”</p><p>“Course I do.” Felix was acting entirely giddy now, moving his head to the beat of the music and humming. “But my dad looks through my phone, so I delete everything.”</p><p>“Oh?” Hyunjin looked Felix up, and a possibility popped into his head. “But you never sext me. And you deleted all our texts too.”</p><p>“Mhmmm.” Felix flopped back onto the bed, his breath was faster, almost panting now; his sweater had ridden up. “It’s like… percussion- precaution- pre-whatever, like…” He waved a hand. “He doesn’t like me texting at <em> all </em>, so like…” He giggled. “It’s super dumb.”</p><p>Hyunjin moved onto his side beside Felix, and carefully, he pressed the back of his free hand against the other’s cheek. “Baby, you’re all warm.” He was, somewhat. </p><p>“And hard,” Felix informed.</p><p>Hyunjin pouted. “Poor baby. Don’t you wanna take that sweater off?” </p><p>Felix mumbled with a laugh. “I don’t like you like that.” And he had begun to rub himself indiscreetly.</p><p>Hyunjin hummed then asked, “You delete photos too?”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>Hyunjin checked the Recently Deleted. “Oh, look at that.” Nudes, a dozen of them. “Who do you usually send these to, Lixie?”</p><p>“Oh?” He was moaning now, but Hyunjin ignored it. “Channie.”</p><p>“Did Jin-young know about you and Chan?”</p><p>“Noooo.”</p><p>“What <em> did </em> Jin-young know?”</p><p>“A lot.” Hyunjin looked over, and Felix had begun to sniffle, even though he was still laughing and smiling and slipping a hand into his sweats. “Dunno how he found out. I think he got to talking to my mom.”</p><p>“And what does your mom know?”</p><p>“That I’m not hers.” With a huff, then, Felix pulled his sweater over his head, to Hyunjin’s widened eyes. His chest, glistened with sweat, rising and falling with his gasps, covered in smears of blue and green and purple. Resembled Hyunjin’s wrists after the night with Changbin. “Sorry.” Felix laughed, painfully. “I’m not as pretty under my clothes.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hyunjin airdropped himself the nudes that night, and while lounging on a chair in the principal’s office as the old man worked at his desk, he looked through them. He realized that in most of them, Felix carried the clear signs of abuse, peppered along his chest, arms, and legs, even when they were neatly tucked under him for a pose. In one, he had a clear busted bottom lip, a corner caked in red with a healing scab from when that plump mouth had split open. Apart from that, it appeared Felix’s father mostly avoided his face, for obvious reasons. When you’re rich, appearances matter, everyone knows that, but oddly, it came to Hyunjin as if he’d never known it, as if he himself wasn’t the embodiment of fakeness. It was stupid. This was stupid. Why were rich people stupid? Hyunjin had no problem admitting that, but he had no answer. The correlation between capital ownership and being a brainless bitch is probably something other people have written about. Maybe Marx. Maybe Bakunin. Who knows. Who cares. Hyunjin wasn’t actually interested in an answer, and he wasn’t about to read a fucking book either.<br/>
<br/>
Chan received these photos -- Hyunjin kept thinking about that. What did Chan think about this? Was he into the bruising? On one hand, Hyunjin understood it -- he occasionally liked it when he was left a portrait of ugly, almost-bleeding blemishes -- but this was clearly a bit different. So, did he accept these pictures knowing that every inch of discoloration on otherwise perfectly smooth, feather soft skin was the result of an abusive father and mother? Did he jack off to the nudes with that knowledge in his head? Did it edge him on? Did it disgust him, and was he getting off to that disgust? Or, maybe, did he not even think about it? Maybe, Bang didn’t even consider it out of the ordinary anymore. As if the bruising were just a part of Felix the way eye color was on someone else. </p><p>Felix skipped school. The drug hadn’t had that big of lasting effect on him, but once Hyunjin told him what happened, Felix broke down so bad he could hardly speak. He’d been disgusted with himself, pleading with Hyunjin not to tell anyone between croaky sobs that convulsed his entire body with shudders. Hyunjin, instead, simply showed Felix the nudes he had saved, chastised him for not deleting them off Recently Deleted, and then told him to get talking, to explain in proper words why he was being abused, or else he would just so happen to post every photo on every social media site there was. Hiccuping, Felix explained everything, curled up into himself, looking small, looking fragile, taking breaks to cry uselessly.<br/>
Jin-young had known, threatened to make the information public. Chan also knew, obviously, and when Felix told him about Jin-young’s threats, it was only reasonable that Chan pummeled and stabbed him as brutally as he did. That was what Felix said when Hyunjin had asked about Chan’s role in the murder. And it made sense, it did, but something felt off. Perhaps it was in the way that Felix fidgeted and refused to meet his eyes, but Hyunjin sensed that he still didn’t have the full story.<br/>
<br/>
Hyunjin looked up from his phone at the principal, busy with his work still, and then he swung his long legs off the chair to stand with a stretch and long moan as his muscles stretched satisfyingly. “Mm.” He dropped his arms, locked eyes with the principal. “Hey, daddy?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I’m gonna get going, but…” Hyunjin stalked over to him, leaned over the desk, on the tips of his toes as he pressed his lips to the corner of the old man’s mouth. “Thank you for today.” They kissed deeply for many ticks of some clock somewhere in the room, and then they broke apart. Hyunjin headed for the door with his backpack and a little sigh that was supposed to come out cute; it did not. He left, walked down the corridor, and he was planning on just leaving school early so he could plan his next steps, but then he heard a familiar voice, and then another. He stopped by an open door, turned.</p><p>Minho and Jeongin were staring at him too, from their usual seats at the meeting table, though they were standing, as if they’d been about to leave or had just arrived. Minho smiled, which nearly made Hyunjin shiver, because Minho’s smiles were always long when he was about to scam you of something, and that was the smile worming over his pink mouth right then. “Jinnie,” Minho greeted. “We were just talking about you.” One hand went on his regular chair, tapped the wood. </p><p>Hyunjin resisted the urge to swallow, tossed his head, then stepped in. “What are you guys doing? Is class over?”</p><p>“Been skipping?” Jeongin asked with an amused twist. “Yeah, classes are over.”</p><p>“Doesn’t the poetry club or whatever meet here at this time?”</p><p>“That’s tomorrow,” Minho answered. “Hey, Hyunjin, random, but your mom went to Harvard right?”</p><p>“Uh.” Hyunjin plopped down on the table. “You guys didn’t answer why-”</p><p>“So you’re not a legacy?” asked Jeongin now, and Hyunjin was already feeling a headache coming on from looking between the two. </p><p>“No?” Hyunjin furrowed his brow. “My dad went to Rice.” He paused. “Mom went to NYU. Didn’t your parents go to a fucking state school, Baby bread? You can’t say shit.”</p><p>Jeongin looked about to reply, but it was Minho’s turn to talk, and he did a lot of it: “That’s really weird. I remember you didn’t do that well on the SAT, so you took the ACT.” Hyunjin was already regretting being such a fucking gossiper. “A couple times, actually. You never told me what you got, but I asked around…” He paid around. “A 30? It’s not <em> that </em> bad, but… Baby bread got a 36.”</p><p>“Fucking so?”</p><p>“I thought maybe you got into Princeton or Harvard because you’re a legacy but…” Minho laughed, which was bad, because Minho’s laugh was even scarier than his smile. “With that ACT score, your extracurriculars must have been really fucking good.”</p><p>“They <em> are- </em>”</p><p>“What were they?” Baby bread piped in; finally, Hyunjin’s heart began to accelerate, knock against his sternum. Fingers clammy at his sides, he listened as Jeongin continued, “I mean, I don’t actually know what clubs you’re in, and I’m in a lot of them.”</p><p>“I’m in a lot too.” Minho’s stupid smile was blossming into a grin. “I’ve never counted any membership dues from you. But hey, we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Hyunjin was nearly sweating by the point. “Maybe it’s all out of school. Maybe you don’t bring it up even though you bring up everything else… Maybe your rec letters got you really far too. Who wrote them for you?”</p><p>“That’s none of your fucking business.” Hyunjin hopped off his seat on the long table, furious now as he adjusted his backpack strap. “What’s with all this question-y bullshit? If this has something to do with Jin-young then I hope you-” Quickly, he lowered his voice, remembering that anyone next door could hear. “I hope you remember you brought fucking knives that night.”</p><p>“Hey,” Minho laughed. “I was under the impression that we wanted to scare him. Knives are <em> very </em> scary.”</p><p>Hyunjin rolled his eyes, headed for the door. “Fuck you. Leave me alone.” He caught a glimpse of Jeongin’s self-satisfied smirk on the way out; his blood boiled. Hyunjin told himself he would have done more if Minho hadn’t been there, if only Minho hadn’t been standing there with his big fucking smile and his stupid dumb laugh. He could hear the two chatting even after he’d walked out of the building, voices following behind him like ghosts.</p><p>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn’t thinking. Hyunjin was so mad he felt like his own head was splitting in half, and so he acted impulsively.</p><p>Once he’d walk past a collection of bricked buildings, brushing excited freshmen running across the yard, he came to the edge of campus. There was a fence, of course, as if St. Sebastian’s High School was a goddamn gated community, and beyond it was the outline of a forest that extended miles. Hyunjin could still see the smoke, climbing up and scattering the way ants do — the smoke that was Jin-young and fire intermixed.</p><p>Hyunjin pulled his phone out and searched for the right contact. He brought it to his ear. “Hey, Auntie,” he began.</p>
<hr/><p>Changbin and Seungmin told Hyunjin that Chan’s hate for Jin-young probably involved more than Felix. Hyunjin had refrained from giving specifics apart from Felix having an insane fucking home life, but they’d understood the gist of it. Still, neither was convinced. Over Mcnuggets, Seungmin had said, the same Thursday night Hyunjin argued with Minho and Jeongin, “Chan’s always been iffy with Jin-young for being so snoopy.”</p><p>Changbin played with his McFlurry. “Felix said Chan covered for him by killing Jin-young, right?”</p><p>“Mhm,” Hyunjin said.</p><p>“Might’ve been the other way around.”</p><p>Seungmin raised a brow. “But we were there. Felix didn’t do any stabbing, I don’t think.”</p><p>It might not have been a good idea to be discussing how exactly they murdered their childhood friend in the middle of a busy McDonald’s but Hyunjin had trouble caring.</p><p>“What I mean is that Felix might have been covering for Chan when he confessed everything. He’s trying to take the blame for what Chan did.”</p><p>“Trying to keep Hyunjin from looking further into it,” Seungmin murmured, seemingly agreeing. “That makes sense.”</p><p>“Well, how do we get Felix to fess up to whatever shit Chan is up to?” Hyunjin twirled his hair, ditzily almost. “Or should I threaten Chan using Felix?”</p><p>Seungmin sipped loudly at a medium Dr. Pepper. “Probably a bad idea. Threats are what has Minho on your ass now.”</p><p>“Ugh.” Hyunjin tugged at the stand of his hair he’d been playing with. “But it also got you on my side though.”</p><p>“Speaking of which, you’re being <em> very </em> trusting of me, Jinnie.” Seungmin hid a smile behind a hand and turn away. “But whatever, that’s not the conversation we’re having right now.” Hyunjin was back to tugging on his hair, harder. “It’s better if you snoop around.”</p><p>“Snoop around fucking where?”</p><p>“His house,” Changbin answered. “His phone.” He spooned some ice cream into his mouth, swallowed, then raised his strong gaze to rest on Hyunjin. “Unless you can blackmail Felix <em> and </em> Chan, it’s not a good idea to just attack Felix. Let’s just hope he hasn’t already told Chan about you drugging him.”</p><p>Hyunjin mumbled, bitterly. “Should I break into his house then?”</p><p>“He’s not as dumb as you are,” Changbin said with a near-chuckle. “I doubt he just leaves the door unlocked.”</p><p>And so, it was planning time once again.</p>
<hr/><p>“Felix, wash your ass.”</p><p> “Uh.” Felix’s voice was still groggy from sleep. “W-What-? What are you talking about?” </p><p>“You bottom, right?” </p><p>Pause. “Sometimes. But like <em> why </em> are you telling me to do that? Jin, I have a boyfriend, you fucking know that-”</p><p>“Of course I know that, dumbass, it’s not for me.” Hyunjin considered how to phrase it. “Your parents are still out of town, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, but they track my phone.”</p><p>“Leave it at home.” With that, Hyunjin explained their evening plans all the while sitting at his kitchen with a burning cup of americano in the hand that wasn’t holding his phone to his ear. The Friday dawn sun was barely rising from beyond the windows, peeking out shyly from the towering buildings that caged Hyunjin’s apartment. When he made everything clear, he stressed that if Felix told Chan, or anyone, about this, he wouldn’t hesitate to post the photos he had of him, and to let his parents know Felix had been sneaking out routinely for the past few years to fuck his “friend” and party at shady clubs. Surprisingly a bigger coward than Jisung, Felix agreed.</p><p>Hyunjin spent the rest of the morning and afternoon lounging around in his favorite robe, doing nothing. He was tempted to call Jisung, or Minho, to ask what happened regarding his exposed secret, but he’d probably learn soon enough. Playing with his rosary, he got up from the couch eventually to saunter into his walk-in closet, pull out a black Saint Laurent satin button-down and tight pants the same color. For shoes, he went with some Dr. Martens, just because Changbin always wore them, which means they were probably good for sneaking around. They also made his legs look great.<br/>
Hyunjin had an Uber pick up Felix at around six, and they both arrived at Bang Chan’s in around thirty minutes. They were around the corner from his mansion, right in front of someone else’s, as Hyunjin stepped out onto the sidewalk, saw Felix in his apparently favorite Gucci sweater, then smiled. “You okay? Wasn’t your test today? How’d it go-?”</p><p>“Chan doesn’t know I’m coming,” Felix said, unprompted, staring down at his shoes. “He should be home though. I convinced him not to go to a party tonight.”</p><p>“Good boy. Remember everything I asked?” </p><p>Nod. “Wait a few minutes out here. Ten at most.”</p><p>He was tempted to complain but he didn’t. As Felix left to make his way towards the house, Hyunjin ran over in his head everything that could go wrong: Felix might just tattle on him to Chan, wait for Hyunjin to come inside, before the two beat Hyunjin to death for all the threats. His plan depended on Felix being cowardly, on wanting to keep Chan out of this mess; Changbin and Seungmin had told him so, but Hyunjin had insisted that Felix wouldn’t tell. He also was running out of options, and time. If something horrible happened to Jisung as a result of Hyunjin’s impulse, Minho was now probably out for blood, and the worst part was that he and Jeongin were getting eerily close to seeing that Hyunjin was just as guilty of shame as them all. Hyunjin was praying, actually praying, that Felix was weak, weak enough to not consider fighting back.</p><p>Minutes passed. Hyunjin began to make his way to Chan’s house; the pale motifs of the roof and windows, over the three stories of white brick, were blinding in the daytime. It was a good thing Chan’s parents were never home, especially now that his father was out campaigning for his re-election. He wasn’t too worried of many interruptions as he climbed up the steps to the door, turned it to find that it was unlocked, just as he had specified for Felix to do. Hyunjin walked inside, shut the door behind him. The living area he stepped into looked different when it wasn’t filled to the brim with drinks, food, and general stupid shit on every surface. He’d nearly forgotten that people actually lived in this house, or at least Chan did, when there weren’t loud ass parties that made the walls and pillars tremble.</p><p>Hyunjin made his way to the stairs.</p><p>When Felix had confessed everything to him, the morning after he’d been drugged, he’d been crying so much it looked like he’d just been beat. His entire face looked like it had just endured a dozen hard punches -- it was red. He had described the way he’d never met his real mother, and how his father’s wife only took him in, albeit unhappily, because she couldn’t have any kids of her own. He endured the abuse his entire life without question, hoping he’d at least get all their wealth after the death of his parents. Except, his mother had recently gotten pregnant somehow, by medical miracle. Now, Felix had nothing. His parents had arranged for him to study in a mysterious school in England, to get him as far away as they could, all the while Felix was making plans to have Chan take him with him to MIT. It was cute, really. The type of love story you see movies about.</p><p>Hyunjin walked down the corridor until he heard what he’d been searching for behind a closed door. He put his ear up to the wood, listening for Chan’s voice among Felix’s loud, deep moaning, and then he found it. Chan apparently liked pet names, which Hyunjin wouldn’t have ever guessed, and though Chan was attractive, Hyunjin had never been particularly attracted <em> to </em> him. He stepped away from the door after getting tired of hearing <em> harder </em> and <em> baby boy </em>. He moved to keep walking down the hall, checking inside a few rooms for whichever might be Chan’s, which he very faintly remembered having visited when they were younger. He found it, and for a rich kid, it wasn’t too big; it had a king-sized charcoal bed over the hardwood floor where a few pairs of shoes were thrown about. There was a couch too, also black, tucked underneath a wide and short window. No carpet, a desk the same color as everything else, with a large Dell desktop resting on it. </p><p>Hyunjin snooped around bedside drawers for a while before furrowing his brow. Felix had managed to fuck Chan in a room that wasn’t his bedroom, as Hyunjin instructed, but he hadn’t managed to get Chan to leave his phone in here. It was fine. By the sounds of what had been happening nearby, he probably had a good amount of time to still get a good look around. Hyunjin went to the desk first, plopped down on the office chair, and tapped on the mouse until the screensaver clicked off. Chan’s desktop background was Felix, eating a brownie.</p><p>Hyunjin skimmed the forty million open tabs. He had a lot of messaging apps open, a lot of Excel sheets open, a lot of bank accounts. Hyunjin blinked a lot, but once he started to read through the messages, his confusion morphed into bewilderment and then a shock that made him shoot up. His head swung in all directions after reading the words in a recently sent text, “yeah I have most of it just sitting in my room right now lmao,” before he rushed to every piece of furniture he’d ignored rummaging. He threw open drawers, looked into the closet. His heart had grown erratic, the way it had so many times these past weeks, but he was nearly suffocating too. It was as if he couldn’t find the right amount of air suddenly, as if there was someone squeezing his lungs so they couldn’t fill up the way they were supposed to.</p><p>Hyunjin rushed to the couch, desperate, threw off the cushions, and there, finally, he found it all. It was all wrapped nicely into even blocks of orange plastic and string ties, but Hyunjin wasted no time in taking one block, feeling it a little flatter than it had looked, but still about the size of his face. He tore it open with his nails, he saw the greenery inside, felt it between trembling fingers as the skunky, earthy scent invaded his nose. He dropped it onto the floor, took half a step back; it hit it with a soft thud.</p><p>“Hey, Jin.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s heart stopped. His entire body paralyzed at the sound of Chan’s voice.</p><p>“You made a mess.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s eyes were on the cannabis package plopped by his feet, but slowly, he lifted his line of sight, and even slower, he turned around to see his friend leaning by the doorway. He was only wearing jeans, along with a giddy little smile. “Chan.”</p><p>Chan didn’t answer. He took one step forward instead, and then another. His left hand was a fist holding a wooden bat that he dragged against the floor. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the wait i had the coronavirus</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. deuteronomy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hyunjin’s hands were clasped together as if he were praying, and he was on his knees as if he were about to suck dick, but it was Chan standing in front him, looking anything but horny. He’d raised his bat to rest on a shoulder, raised an eyebrow too; he was waiting, waiting for Hyunjin’s excuse. Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t have gotten frightened enough to fall into such a stupid position, but he’d already watched Chan kill someone before. He had seen his fist dig itself into Jin-young’s face enough to make it unrecognizable, not to mention the way he’d skillfully dug the knife into Jin-young’s sides and chest and belly and neck. It had been with Changbin’s help, yes, but Hyunjin knew what drove Changbin over the edge, and he’d been in control of it. There was nothing he could do about Chan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How-” Hyunjin swallowed, his hands still together. “Did Felix tell you I was here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mad that he betrayed you? You’re kind of dumb, aren’t you?” Very, but Hyunjin wasn’t about to say that out loud. “It wasn’t him. He’s not a good liar, but that doesn’t matter. I just looked outside and saw your stupid shit car driving past, and then Felix just happened to show up? I thought it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> sketchy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid shit car: the Kar Tunz Lamborghini Urus. Hyunjin had bought it impulsively at a car show in February or March, and he remembered how Chan had teased him the day he showed it off, saying that the car itself was nothing to brag about. In a nearby car dealership, it was only being sold at around $230,000, so the extra money Hyunjin had coughed up was mostly a result of the modifications done to it, most clearly the 18k golden finishes. Hyunjin had decided to argue that he was well aware that the main model was nothing special and that for philosophical reasons, he was invested in beautifying a shit car, giving it a better life or something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For comparison purposes, it’s worth noting that Chan was a bit of a car enthusiast, not nearly as much as his dad, but enough to convince people he was straight at least. He owned a black and blue Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse, which was roughly 2 million dollars. It was the same car they’d smuggled Jin-young into the night of his murder before driving him out to the forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin put his hands down, swallowed audibly. “Okay, fine. I’m here.” He stood up, took some steps back, and his eyes landed on the block of greenery on the floor by the couch beside him. “Put the bat down. You’re not gonna hurt me.” It wasn’t so much a statement as a question, a suggestion even, something like, ‘Channie, please don’t fucking kill me. Please.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan didn’t do as told, or didn’t get the chance to because Felix appeared at the doorway in hastily thrown on clothes. He panted, one hand on the doorknob as he ran his other through his askew hair. He said, quickly, “Chan, don’t.” His face was scrunched, worried, and flushed still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t done anything,” Chan said, and he hadn’t, but Hyunjin could hear his heart beating hard against his eardrums. “Haven’t even asked him why he’s doing all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin blinked when the two’s eyes landed on him. He cleared his throat. “I always knew there was something weird about what happened with Jin-young. I figured no one was telling the truth about why they really wanted him dead, so… I decided to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin scoffed. “What do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan shrugged nonchalantly, and he was smiling for some reason. “You made the connection that we all wanted something hidden so bad that we were willing to kill for it. You knew that Jin-young finding out our secrets got him killed, and what did you decide to do? Do exactly what he did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin shifted his weight. “This is different though. I’m not-” But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> threatening. He had done nothing but threaten. “I’m not like him.” He stared at the bat again, resting just by Chan’s throat. “So what is it with you?” He tried to regain control of the conversation. “You sell drugs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do much of the on-the-street selling myself,” Chan answered easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just-” Hyunjin tried to unscramble in his head all that he’d seen on the computer. “You traffic it.” He wasn’t sure if that was the right word to use. “You supply it. You give it to public school kids to sell for you and then you take a percentage, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Chan chuckled. “You can read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix stepped into the bedroom finally, turning the heads of the others. He said, “Jin. You shouldn’t have done all this, you-” He sighed loudly. “Fuck.” He shared a long look with Chan, and then Chan turned back to Hyunjin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “So you found out about Felix’s situation too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He threatened to expose me,” Felix said, and Hyunjin mentally screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it,” he said quickly. “I just- I didn’t mean it, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you didn’t,” Chan hummed. “You’re not exactly trustworthy, are you?” Hyunjin wanted to argue. “You’re kind of a dumbass. Does anyone know you came here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Hyunjin quickly reached for the phone in his pocket, and he realized his fingers were trembling. “Channie, don’t. I-I already sent everything to Seungmin. If you kill me, he can expose everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Seungmin is working with you?” Goddammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin glared. “It doesn’t matter. I sent it to him. So put the bat down. Listen to me. I want-” Chan’s free hand flew out instead, shoved Hyunjin back and made him trip so that he fell hard against a table that smacked into the back of his head. He yelped, holding himself, then dragged his eyes up to see Chan already half on top of him, bat in the air. “Chan, don’t-!” Felix was also shouting for Chan to wait, to stop, but then someone else appeared at the door, slammed it against the wall even though it was already open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Binnie?” Felix whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin looked at Felix, then at Chan. One hand was tucked into his jacket. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan blinked. “Did you come here with Hyunjin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Changbin laughed a bit. “I just knew he would fuck up somehow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re gonna try to keep me from killing him then it’s better if you didn’t.” Chan tapped his fingers against the bat. “I’ll come after you too unless you leave right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin held his gaze for a moment before carefully saying, “I think we should all talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix was the one who replied: “I think we’re past that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin hesitated before removing the hand from his coat, in pulling out an onyx SIG Sauer P228 pistol that he lifted so the end pointed not exactly at Chan’s head, but nearby. The room had already been heavy, but now it was suffocating under the weight of dread Hyunjin was drowning in. He clutched at his top with one hand, while the other was on the ground to steady him. Chan had frozen, but he wasn’t visibly scared; his jaw was set, but there was hardly anything behind his gaze other than calculation. Felix was the one who had the loudest reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He rushed to Chan and took his arm, shaking and tugging, as if he wanted to pull the other behind him, but Chan refused to budge. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put the gun down,” Chan ordered, but the waver to his voice betrayed the cool expression he was still holding onto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk,” Changbin said, and Hyunjin took that as his cue to stand up and scurry to him. Unlike Chan and Felix, who stood firmly beside each other, Hyunjin hid behind Changbin frightfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s talk!” he exclaimed. “Binnie’s not putting anything down until we figure something out.” Hyunjin swallowed thick. “This isn’t over. If you don’t want me to tell everyone what you’ve been up to then you need to do as I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was Chan whose mouth opened, Felix was the one who spoke up again. “Jin, you need to fucking stop. This isn’t a game anymore. What could you possibly fucking want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know what Minho and Baby bread are up to.” Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. “They’re both after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have good reason for it,” Chan laughed. “You have Binnie pointing a gun at us right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not going to shoot,” Hyunjin said, partly to get the two to calm down and partly to get it through to Changbin that he didn’t want them dead. “I want you two to help me get the others off my back. If you don’t do it, I’ll expose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan and Felix shared a look, and Hyunjin waited patiently. He smiled when they nodded at each other after a long few seconds of silence then turned back to him. He was prepared to start coming up with a plan, but Chan and Felix said together, “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” they said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Hyunjin scoffed, then stomped his foot like a horse. “What do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>no? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Binnie is literally about to fucking shoot you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me think through this plan of yours,” Chan began. “Either we help you or… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expose what you’ve been up to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then we make you pay for it,” Felix said, an odd smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to tell Binnie to shoot you then?” Hyunjin felt Changbin stiffen in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead.” Chan shrugged. “But you two will come out in the front door security footage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Hyunjin blurted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s shoulders shook in a seemingly stifled noise as he lowered the gun to hang limp by his side. He half turned around, showing off that he was biting down hard on his lip, most likely to keep from bursting out laughing. Hyunjin glared and gave him a light smack on the arm. Felix, meanwhile, was laughing too. He ran a hand through his hair once again, snorting. “God, fuck you, Hyunjin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Hyunjin mumbled. “Can’t- Can’t you just help me out with this? As friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends?!” Felix just about screamed in laughter, twisting and walking away as Chan moved to sit down on the arm of his marijuana couch. He was chortling too, doubled over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.” Hyunjin crossed his arms, pouting even as heat invaded his face all over. “They’re after me. I don’t know what they’re capable of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your problem.” Chan shrugged again. “Either way, I think you should be more worried about the fact that Felix and I really want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin paused then reminded him in a grumble, “Don’t try anything, Binnie has a gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to kill you, at least I don’t think so.” Chan once again looked at Felix, as if to confirm. “So here’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> threat: delete whatever dirt you have on Felix.” Groan. “Now.” Hyunjin did as told, pulling his phone out before Felix quickly moved to him, swiped it from his hands. He held it up to Hyunjin’s face so it would unlock, not unlike how Hyunjin had done the night Felix was drugged, and then he started looking through the photos. “Hey, Felix, did Jinnie send anything about my little secret to Seungmin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix laughed. “He did not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin sighed in exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some tapping, and some clear deleting off Recently Deleted, Felix handed the phone back with a giggle. Chan moved behind him, looking nearly as giddy as he said, “Another thing: we get it, okay? You want to keep whatever shady stuff you’ve been doing under wraps, and you’re scared Minho and Jeongin are gonna expose it all. Fine. We’ll let you keep up with that, but you have until… Friday? Maybe Saturday? That’s prom, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re giving me a deadline to fuck over those two?” Hyunjin scoffed. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we hate you,” Felix answered jovially. “Because you threatened us. You could have destroyed my chances to get away from my fucking house, and you could have destroyed Chan and his parents’ lives. So now we’re threatening you. Get the dirt on Minho and Jeongin by Saturday or we’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin stared; he could see the glee in Felix’s eyes and his upturned shoulders and his stupid shit-eating grin. He was probably riding a powerhigh, and Hyunjin partly couldn’t blame him. He had treated Felix like a dog since they’d met, and now Felix was the one with his foot on Hyunjin’s back. What a stupid fucking plan, Hyunjin laughed in his head. The mental Jenga tower of his plans was crumbling and now someone had placed a ticking time bomb in his hands. Felix and Chan had. “Fine. Deal.” Nod, and then because his pride was in flames -- “I’ll have it by Friday night.” That was Seniors’ Night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Changbin led him out of the house and to his car which was a Bugatti, much like Chan’s, but a blue 2016 Chiron. Hyunjin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in it, but he paid no attention to the caramel leather interior as he crawled into the passenger's seat. He buried his face in his hands and waited for the sound of the engine to kick in a low rumble, for Changbin to start the car, and for the vehicle to shift in movement, before he screamed into his palms. “Binnie, I’m going to die,” he whined. “I’m going to die right here in your car. I can feel my lungs filling with fluid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to die of pneumonia in my car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pneumonia? I thought that was tuberculosis.” Hyunjin dragged his hands down his face, looking at the road. “Fuck. I should text my driver. I told him to pick me up in an hour.” He did that quickly with one hand, using the other to clammily thread through his hair. “Ugh, Binnie, what am I-?” He stopped, looked up, then decided to ask, “Hey, Binnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” Changbin looked forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the gun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This?” Hyunjin jumped when Changbin pulled it out, waved it haphazardly, then tossed it into the backseat. “Calm down. There’s no bullets, no nothing. It’s pretty useless. I don’t even know how to use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin twisted around to see the gun lying idly in one of the seats. “Where’d you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad.” Changbin turned out of the neighborhood. “He just had it in the drawer. Offered to teach me how to use it once. I don’t like guns, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhuh.” Hyunjin was only half paying attention. His gaze had drifted away from  the pistol to the large baby blue koala sitting beside it. It was a BT21 Koya plushie. Because he never wore a seatbelt, Hyunjin quickly got up and tried to reach for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you-?” Changbin drew in a breath sharply, released a hacking choke sound then said, “Shit, don’t touch that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin was already laughing, moving back to his seat then plopping Koya on his lap. He made it wave at Changbin, and in a silly, high-pitched voice, he teased, “Hiii, Binnieeee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s entire face had gone red, along with his ears. He immediately went back to facing the road, but he stuttered, “P-Put that back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you still liked this type of cute stuff, Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin hesitated, but he replied, “It’s not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin hugged it as he curled up in his seat, feet up on the board. “Oh, is it your girlfriend’s? My mistake.” He didn’t miss the quick, but meaningful, gaze Changbin passed over him. It was probably hard not to react; Hyunjin realized his friend was probably seeing his two favorite things together. Hyunjin hugged Koya tighter. “I knew you still had a soft side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think you should be worrying about what Chan and Felix told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> worrying.” He rested his chin on top of Koya and decided to watch the road too. “It’s just- I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you get all embarrassed like that in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s expression softened; Hyunjin wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear it in his voice. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew, why are you apologizing? It’s not, like, your fault.” Hyunjin wasn’t sure who to blame. “I think it’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always so scary.” Hyunjin wondered if they were anywhere near their own neighborhood, where Hyunjin used to live and where Changbin lived still. “But you’re really soft, I think. You’re just a liar.” He was tempted to say that it was something they both had in common, lying, but they didn’t lie the same. Not to mention that admitting he was lying to Changbin might cause some issues that wouldn’t end well when Hyunjin was trapped in a car in the middle of nowhere with a stalker. He could see the woods nearby, and he wondered how far they extended, how far they could have taken Jin-young in before killing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin sighed, looked over at the other again finally. “It’s not fair. You know everything about me. You never talk about yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the sound of your voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try to be cute </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Hyunjin huffed. “It’s like I don’t know anything about you.” Because he avoided him like the plague unless he was useful, but he chose not to think about that. “Where are you going to college? What do you want to study?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin sighed. “I was waiting on you to decide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s more to the world than me, you know.” Hyunjin loosened his grip on Koya a bit. “I know I’m super hot and perfect but like… Don’t you have any other goals in life besides fucking me?” For no reason, Hyunjin felt guilty, as if he had caused Changbin’s mental state to become what it was now. “Hey. Hey, Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glance, and then a snort. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had moved Koya to sit on one knee, and he was patting the other one. “Stop the car. Come here. Sit on my lap. We’re gonna talk about finding you a will to live that doesn't involve me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin was laughing, red-faced again. “What’s wrong with you? Since when do you care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sadly, you’re the only person I can trust right now, so I’m gonna need you to have some healthier mental health for me, okay?” Hyunjin paused, then added, “Plus, I like it when you’re cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s smile was almost too happy. He was unrecognizable.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Hyunjin went over to Changbin’s a hundred times when they were younger, but not usually into his actual house. They would spend all their time in his backyard instead, because there was a pool and a few trees with thick branches that Hyunjin liked to climb. One afternoon of middle school — they went to different ones — Hyunjin was doing just that before he lost footing, stumbled, then fell some four feet onto the grass below. Changbin had also been climbing, on a much higher branch, when Hyunjin’s wails made him freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin brought Hyunjin inside, just about carried him, into a living room with a thick carpet that was musty and patterned in some weird crimson-brown way that adults liked. To Hyunjin, the swirls and diamond shapes looked like the visualization of car sickness, especially when they wobbled in his vision due to him blinking away tears. He sat plopped on the carpet, hiccuping, leaning against a thick leather couch, as Changbin kneeled beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay? Are you cut?” He was staring at Hyunjin holding his right knee, peeking out from below his jean shorts. The skin was bright pink-red, but not bleeding. Probably not even a bruise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurts,” Hyunjin whined, sniffed. “Hurts really bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin blinked, nodded slowly. “Uh. Okay.” He drummed his thighs and looked around, as if waiting for someone to tell him what to do. After a moment, his round face turned back to Hyunjin’s. “What do I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Band-aid, stupid,” Hyunjin huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not bleeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silly laugh played along Changbin’s lips. “Fine. I’ll go find one.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “I’ll be right back, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin stuck his tongue out. Changbin did the same. He waddled off somewhere. Hyunjin rubbed the back of his hands against his wet face in the time he waited for Changbin to get back. After only a few minutes, though, he grew bored. He stood up, flinched at the slight ache on his knee, then decided to get as far away from the smelly carpet and the ugly couch as he could. He wandered into a tight beige hallway with portraits on either wall. They were a little abstract, but it had some clearly painted birds on them — some swans, some seagulls, an Andean condor, strangely right by a pair of double oak doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin pushed inside. It was a bedroom; everything was deep red and oak the same as the ugly carpet in the living room. He stared at the king-sized bed, high off the flooring, then at the cushioned bench in front of it. He almost went to sit before getting distracted by a vanity set right by the half-open door into a walk-in closet. He stalked toward the set, stared at the arrangement of powders, palettes, hair ties, clips, brushes, lipsticks arranged messily over the counter. Hyunjin found a switch on the side of the wood bordering the mirror, and when he flipped it, the small dots he hadn’t noticed on the border shined out abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin, blinded, jumped and raised a hand to shield his face from the streams of white light. Between his fingers, he saw his eyes, dark mahogany around large pupils, in the mirror. Slowly, he put his hand down, staring at the rest of his face, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders with breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinnie!” It was Changbin’s voice, not far. “Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your parents’ room!” Hyunjin didn’t look away from himself; when Changbin arrived, holding a first-aid box with both hands, he saw him through the reflection. “I don’t need the band-aid anymore. I changed my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that you didn’t.” Changbin frowned as he moved to him, gaze landing on the counter and its disaster of things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s brows came together to form a frustrated line on his forehead. “Whatever. Come on.” He took Hyunjin’s wrist. “We can’t be in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I wanna be in here.” Hyunjin pulled his arm free, reached out to take a Revlon  lipstick and uncap it. It was deep red, like all the head numbing motifs to the room. He swabbed it on his arm, staring at the streak, as he had seen his mother do once. “Pretty color.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin swiped it cleany from Hyunjin’s hands and screwed the cap back on. “Stop. Don’t touch anything.” Hyunjin, meanwhile, picked up another: a Yves Saint Laurent, this one hot pink. “Jinnie, stop-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin swabbed this one too, then, “Binnie, lend me your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin stopped, mouth open as if he were about to shout at Hyunjin to stop again. He blinked once, then twice. “What?” He inched back, but stared at the end of the lipstick like it was the tip of a knife. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin took Changbin’s chin uncharacteristically gently with one hand, didn’t miss the way Changbin’s cheeks grew fiery, and carefully dragged the stick over his friend’s mouth. He painted it with care, using his nail to rub off the points where he had gone past his lip line, only to frown when he smeared the pink. He reached for a light blue packet of makeup remover wipes, pulled one out with the hand that wasn’t still holding Changbin’s face, and then he cleaned up the mess he’d made around his mouth. “Perfect.” He patted his cheek. “Cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin once again blinked in confusion, then looked at his reflection. Hyunjin put both his hands down. “Uh.” He finally set down the first-aid kit, over the makeup removers. “Why’d you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute,” Hyunjin said again. “Do you like it?” The long pause made Hyunjin pout, nudge him. “Answer me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should put on some too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a bit.” Hyunjin ran some fingers through Changbin’s hair. “I’m not done.” He tilted his head, hummed to himself. “What if I put you in a dress?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin shook his head. “I can’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If my parents come home…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I’ll tell them I made you.” Hyunjin smiled toothily. “You never told me if you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno.” Changbin licked his lips. “I don’t really know what I like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had always related to Changbin; they had spent many afternoons shouting conversations from their open windows, not caring because their parents were never home, or didn’t care. They were both parentless most of the time, if not all. When Hyunjin’s family was home, they didn’t give him much attention, and his relationship with his maids was distant as well. His parents loved him theoretically, at least. Hyunjin received a postcard on Christmas that said they adored and missed him; they had sent him a pair of Gucci shoes too, but they were the wrong size. Changbin’s parents didn’t seem to like him very much in contrast. He told Hyunjin that all they did was scream at him, for being emotional, for doing things wrong, for being emotional about doing things wrong. And Changbin didn’t really have anyone else -- no loving extended family or even a pet. He went to another middle school, too, which made Hyunjin fear no one was helping him make friends either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sucks,” Hyunjin mumbled, sitting Changbin down as he began to comb back his hair. “Do you know how it feels to like something?” He put in a clip, saw that it didn’t match the lipstick, then took it off. “I do. I really like TV.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Changbin flinched when his hair was tugged, craning his head back, so that Hyunjin could look down at him directly. “Ow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just do. Fuck.” It came out a little clumsily, he was barely getting used to saying bad words. “You’re gonna grow up all messed up, Binnie. You don’t know what love is. How it feels and stuff. If you ever fall in love with a girl, you’re not gonna know what to do and you’re gonna kill her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glare. “No I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you will. Have you ever watched </span>
  <em>
    <span>Psycho</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It’s kinda, like, a movie just for smart people, so probably not, but the murderer is all crazy because his mom didn’t love him right. That’s gonna happen to you.” He saw Changbin’s raised eyebrow and confused expression. “It’s a good thing you have me. Say ‘Thank you, Jinnie.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m here to help you be a normal person. Like me.” He put some clips in Changbin’s hair, pulling it all away from his face. “I can teach you that when you like things, you’re happy. Watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mean Girls</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes me happy, for example.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a movie for girls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin swatted the top of Changbin’s head with his palm. “You’re the one wearing lipstick. Get up. I’m gonna put a skirt on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin fidgeted. “I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you do, you’re all red. Here look at me.” Hyunjin pulled Changbin up onto his feet, made him face him, then put both hands on his warm cheeks. Changbin was blinking again, quickly. “Say it with me, ‘Hi. I’m Binnie.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. I’m Binnie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it when Hyunjin comes over and makes me look like one of the bitches on MTV’s hit dating show </span>
  <em>
    <span>Next.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin burst into laughter. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, at least you know that much,” Hyunjin grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple weeks later, Hyunjin’s room was moved to the other side of the house, so that his old one could be turned into a film lounge. He stopped talking to Changbin as much, and stopped going to his house. He forgot about being worried for him. When they met again in high school, Hyunjin had forgotten most of everything about him.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Meetings cancelled,” Seungmin said between chews. “Minho isn’t here. He wasn’t at school Friday either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin groaned from the other side of the table, cheek pressed to its cool surface. “Let me guess: Jisung hasn’t been here either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin swallowed some of his croissant then tilted his head. “You didn’t do something, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. So you did.” Seungmin turned as Changbin approached them, carrying a tray with a plate of mashed potatoes, steak, and broccoli. “Hey, Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” Changbin slid into the seat beside Hyunjin’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did Hyunjin do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where to start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin blew air out of pouting, puffed cheeks. “I may be short-sighted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May?” Seungmin laughed with a clap of his hands that made Hyunjin want to grab a fork and stab it into his eye. “You told Jisung’s parents, didn’t you? Jesus fucking Christ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t say that,” Hyunjin grumbled. “That’s a sin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Seungmin and Changbin looked about to burst a blood vessel when none other than Jeongin appeared, right by Seungmin. “Jin,” said the baby bread. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About to get off the waitlist, how ‘bout you?” Hyunjin smiled victoriously as Seungmin hid a snort behind his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin glared. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you still care about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a joke, what are you getting all riled up about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the only one still treating all of this like a joke, Hyunjin.” Jeongin’s face was still, stone. “It’s like… you didn’t learn anything from what happened with Jin-young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin reached into his bag of Flamin Hot Fritos on the table. “What am I supposed to learn about you guys killing someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never seemed guilty about it, you know. You went to a fucking party afterward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, so did you? How was my dancing, by the way? I bet I looked sexy.” Jeongin laughed, or scoffed, and then he was leaning over the table, leaning towards Hyunjin. “Oh? Want a kiss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took things too far.” Jeongin spoke lowly, almost gravely, or as gravely as an uptight high schooler could sound. “This is a warning. From Minho and I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooo, scary. You gonna kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t back off now, you won’t make it to prom this Saturday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The issue with that is that Hyunjin had already promised to hunt and expose Minho and Jeongin by Friday. Or else Chan and Felix would make him suffer for causing so much trouble that led nowhere. He didn’t exactly have any choice in what to do now. “What are you so scared of, Baby bread? You’re not hiding anything big, are you?” He tossed some more chips in his mouth and chewed obnoxiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin didn’t reply. He straightened up, nodded at Seungmin and Changbin. “Have a good lunch.” He turned around and walked away with a tightness to his muscles that made him look stiff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he had turned out of the cafeteria, Seungmin muttered, “God, Hyunjin what the fuck have you done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Hyunjin said. “I need to tell you what happened with Chan and Felix. Promise not to say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snort. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After ensuring that Changbin had gone to class, Hyunjin took to the principal’s office. He did the usual then sat on his lap, also as usual, looking through his phone. He swiped through some of the group pictures, some of which included Jin-young, and he wasn’t feeling sentimental, per say, but he was certainly feeling something. Glancing up, he noticed the principal typing up an email at a deathly slow pace with a look of exhaustion. Hyunjin figured it was now or never. “Hey, daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know Jeongin? He’s in my class year. Going to Stanford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I know him. He asked me to write a recommendation letter a few times. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He bullies me,” Hyunjin said casually. “He asked you to write him a rec letter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullies you? Well, good thing I never wrote that letter. I was busy. Why does he bully you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s homophobic,” Hyunjin said without thinking but nearly laughed afterward. “He’s on the Harvard waitlist -- you know, like me. I hope he doesn’t get in. Why would Harvard accept someone so close-minded?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never liked that kid,” the principal went off. “There’s no personality to him. I don’t think he has any passions. It feels like everything he does is for college apps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> people like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “College acceptances are so difficult now, I understand that much, but a lot of the kids here take it too far. Lots of rumors around him too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rumors?” Hyunjin rested his head against the older man’s shoulder. “About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheating allegations. Every high scoring kid has those, but he involved faculty, supposedly, so I was wondering if I should get involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What teachers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin, I don’t want you starting anything… School is almost over, just two weeks, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so I’m not gonna do anything. I’m just curious.” Pout. “Please, daddy? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really really really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna know.” He rubbed him some too, for good measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The principal didn’t go into detail about the exact allegations, but he gave him some names -- specifically, names of teachers Jeongin was potentially paying to fix his homework, hand over answer sheets, and similar nefarious acts. Hyunjin memorized as many as he could and typed them into his phone as soon as he got the chance to leave the office. Hyunjin texted all that he’d learned to Changbin, though he omitted how he’d gotten the information, as he made his way down the hallway quickly. He was copying and pasting the texts to Seungmin when he heard, chillingly, “Heyyy, Jinnie.” He entirely froze, a shiver almost trickling up his spine, before he turned slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix was there, leaning against a wall, with a big ass grin on his face. Chan was there too, waving. “Hi,” Hyunjin said. “Bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was about to spin on his heel, Chan called out, “Wait, Jin. We were just talking about you. Are you going to prom this Saturday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Can I go now? I’m busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Felix pouted. “But I thought you liked parties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prom isn’t a party. Prom is a bunch of annoying classmates stuffed in a some shit venue, eating food made by underpaid workers, only allowed to dance to kid-friendly pop. They don’t even let us grind on each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, then Chan asked, “Since when do you give a shit about underpaid workers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been reading Kropotkin,” Hyunjin answered completely out of his ass. “And Lenin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should be reading a manual on how not to be a slut on the dance floor,” Felix teased. “Then maybe you’d enjoy prom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should read a manual on sucking dick right. Chan didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself too mu-” Hyunjin shut his mouth in response to the look Chan was giving him. He just about squeaked, “What? Don’t look at me like that. It’s called a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember what we decided about Friday,” Chan warned. “You’re going to Seniors’ Night, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seniors’ Night was a dumb ceremony they did every year where people announced their school of choice, along with any awards they’d gotten, and signed each other’s yearbooks. It was Brag Night, really, and Hyunjin hadn’t been interested in going -- in fact, he had been arranging something with a soccer player from another school -- but oh well. “Guess I am,” Hyunjin said. “Think I’ll win Most Likely to Be Successful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” they said.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Impulsively, he told his driver to take him to Minho’s. He gave him the address then sat patiently as he played a phone game in boredom. When they arrived at the mansion Minho was usually in, he took his backpack with him, not really for any reason, and told his driver to return for him in two hours. He made his way down a pebble walkway splitting a front yard that was peppered with spring flowers and a few small stone sculptures, one of which was a gnome with a pointed hat. Once, Hyunjin had asked Minho’s mother if he could paint the hat red. She had said no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the passcode, or at least knew some of the ones to some of Minho’s houses. He tried one, heard a buzz, then cursed. The second try, the combination of 1554, got him in. There was a beeping sound, to alarm anyone in the house that someone had entered, but Hyunjin didn’t care about it. He wanted to talk, not a hundred percent sure about what. In the car, it had popped into his head that maybe, hypothetically, perhaps, potentially, things were going too far. So, he wanted to sit down with Minho and at least ask what happened to Jisung. He had yet to hear any gossip, from students and their parents alike, and the wait was killing him. He was aware Minho might take this chance to kill him, but Minho wasn’t the type to beat him to death with a bat at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though to be fair, Hyunjin had also never thought anyone of his friends was capable of murder. And now they were on the verge of doing it again if Hyunjin wasn’t careful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where the fuck was Minho? Hyunjin stopped in the middle of a corridor, turning every which way. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Minho’s parents to be out, but Minho was always home at this hour, but he also hadn’t come out when the house announced someone arrived. No maids, either. Pursuing his lips, Hyunjin decided to keep making his way toward Minho’s room; the plain white door was open when he reached it, there was a figure curled up on the bed, under the covers. Hyunjin took a step inside slowly, froze when he saw the figure shift but breathed out a quiet sigh in relief once he saw they weren’t going to get up. He stared at the open shuttered door to Minho’s closet, oddly squared and quaint for someone so rich, beside the way into the bathroom. There was water running; Hyunjin heard footsteps, then the water stop; his heart stuttered, so he scrambled to the closet, slipping inside and pulling the door shut behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin squinted between the shutters just in time for Minho to step out of the bathroom, face wet. He’d just washed it. Jisung’s unmistakable voice groaned from the bed, “I think someone got home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was one of the maids, most likely.” Minho plopped down on the bed, pulling back the covers to reveal Jisung curled up in a gray sweatshirt, basketball shorts, with one hand in a Cool Ranch Doritos bag. He chewed noisily, swallowed, then sat up as Minho snickered. “Morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you told the maids to take days off or whatever.” Jisung crossed his legs under him and filtered through his chips, picking out a cracked triangle. “Can’t you check who came in through your phone or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed. “I told one of the maids to come clean the yard.” There was a soft meow. Hyunjin turned to see a light orange cat sitting beside him, staring up with big pupils. “Oh,” came Minho’s voice. “That’s Soonie.” Hyunjin barely kept himself from cussing out loud, but Minho didn’t get up. He reached out instead, took the bag of chips. “You look better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung watched, pouting, as Minho reached to sit the chip bag on a bedside table, far from Jisung’s reach. “You saying I didn’t look good before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Minho grabbed some tissues off the top next then scooted closer to the other. He took his hand, began to wipe Jisung’s fingers clean of Dorito dust. “Stop eating junk, it’s not going to help with recovery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Recovery?” Jisung laughed. “I don’t need recovery. If you don’t think I’m handsome at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.” Minho finished cleaning Jisung’s hands, with a level of delicateness that made Hyunjin raise a brow in confusion. Minho never handled things so gently, not even the wads of cash people were constantly having to hand him. Silently, he ran his fingers over Jisung’s knuckles, rolled his thumb over the joints. His mouth opened, then closed. Apparently noticing the waves in Minho’s gaze, waves of some sort of emotion Hyunjin didn’t know Minho </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel, Jisung said, “Hey. I’m good. I mean it. Better. Sorry I kinda look like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about that,” Minho said it as Soonie purred beside Hyunjin. “It’s not about how you look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be fine.” Jisung took a breath, loud and heavy, tumbling out of his mouth. “Don’t make me think about it. I’m not ready for that. I just want to be happy I’m with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin glared, disgust building in his throat at seeing such an affectionate moment. He heard Minho continue, hushed, “Don’t be happy about it. You’re going to get tired of me after a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung snorted. “I think it’s the other way around. Hey, hey, stop, you look so sad.” He finally pulled his hands free, placed them on Minho’s cheeks, then laughed again. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Hyunjin couldn’t see Minho’s face when it was turned to Jisung like that, but he imagined it the best he could: conflicted, angry, depressed, guilty. A moment passed, but then Jisung was smiling. “You wanna kiss me. You’re all red.” Minho mumbled something. “Don’t be mean. If you want a kiss so bad, ask for it.” They leaned in, but Hyunjin couldn’t see if their lips were interlocked, though Jisung’s chuckle was muffled. “Stop stressing. I’m fine. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho reached up to delicately, again, take the other’s wrist. He guided Jisung’s hand to his mouth, and Hyunjin strained to hear the wet, smacking-lip sound of sucking. He was sucking on Jisung’s fingers, to Jisung’s wide eyes and flushed face surprise. Minho mumbled something again, and Jisung leaned in to peck him on the cheek. At this point, Hyunjin gained an idea of what was about to happen, so he reached into his backpack and pulled out his phone, but he was on low battery, and there weren’t any outlets. He looked to Soonie, trying to ask with his eyes if they knew where he could charge his phone. Obviously, no answer. Hyunjin decided to quickly text the situation to Seungmin instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin usually took hours to respond but he promptly texted back within a second: “AGHDJSNHDKJDF”, “u see i told u they were dating”, and “my brain? big”. Hyunjin spammed knife emojis back, then asked what he should do. “idk dont look tho give them privacy”,  Seungmin replied. “Im with binnie btw he’s asking where ur at”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“why are u with binnie tf”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“he actually listens to me talk about sappho” and “anyway what do i tell him”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oddly, Hyunjin was hit with a pang of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> — definitely not jealousy, though — at the idea of Changbin hanging out with other people. He had been the one who told him to make a life outside himself, of course, but it was still making Hyunjin want to huff. He texted back for Seungmin to tell Changbin that he was with a cousin, and also sent him the list of teacher names he’d gotten from the principal. “look them up for me”, he ordered. “get any info u can get and send it to me thx xoxo”. With that, he shut his phone off and went back to the show, or rather the suckling noises Minho was making, but no longer around Jisung’s fingers. Hyunjin cringed, and part of him itched to take a picture, but Minho was not the type to be manipulated by nudes — knowing him, if he saw interest, he would turn it into a business — and Jisung had probably suffered enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was better at sucking cock than Felix. Actually, Hyunjin wasn’t sure, but he’d wager that Minho was at least better at not choking on it — not to say choking on dick is bad in any conceivable way — but also Jisung’s dick was decently-sized. It was thick, that was for sure, but Hyunjin hadn’t seen Chan’s. It was difficult to compare them, and Hyunjin really had no idea why he was doing it, but he was trapped in a fucking closet listening to his friends fuck and his head was spinning goddammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s moans were </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for no good reason. When Jisung pulled off his stupid pair of brown Old Navy — fucking Old Navy? — sweatpants, palmed at his hard cock — which was smaller than Jisung’s? — then had Minho lift his hips so he could press in a finger or two, Minho was throwing his head back and moaning with a wide open mouth. Minho mumbled that there was lube somewhere, so Jisung quickly went to the drawer to get it. When he returned and fingered Minho with better prepared fingers, Minho was back to being obnoxious and loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin looked at Soonie again. He was thankful he could at least look away from that disaster, but given their volume, it was impossible to entirely ignore. He tried to pet Soonie, but the cat wasted no time in running away to hide by a rack of Minho’s multiple pairs of striped shirts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was heaving and mumbling again. He was being fucked by now, probably, but Hyunjin didn’t want to think about it. He curled up on the floor and waited, listening to the creaks of the bed frame, slaps of skin, and the occasionally soft moans of Minho when it wasn’t Jisung’s voice filling the air. He talked a lot, even when he was kissing the other, by the sound of it, or on the verge of cumming, according to his saying so. When Minho choked, let out a stifled grunt, and Jisung said something about wanting Minho to finish first, Hyunjin looked through the blinds curiously to see Jisung pumping Minho with each thrust into him. Hyunjin’s chest ached; he had no idea why. The pain only increased when he noticed that the two of them were laughing, and it wasn’t the typical coy, pleased laugh he was used to from Minho, and Jisung similarly sounded burden-less. Something about cumming was, apparently, hilarious to the both of them, and it pissed Hyunjin off. When they finished, they made out. Jisung pulled out and they rolled around and wouldn’t stop fucking kissing each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was still just the afternoon, Hyunjin, through his nausea, noticed that they were both moving under the covers. He texted Seungmin that the two were done, and Seungmin curiously asked who topped, but Hyunjin ignored it. He watched and waited for minutes that were hours. He wasn’t sure what to do beside go home at this point; he had at least learned what happened to Jisung, but he doubted the fact that he was staying at Minho’s was anything Hyunjin could use against them. The worst part of having sat through all that was the confirmation that Minho and Jisung were, at least a little bit, into each other. Hyunjin had realized it before, but it was difficult to wrap his head around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it seemed obvious that the two were sleeping, Hyunjin slipped, or crawled, out. Soonie came out with him and tilted their head up at him as he snapped two quick photos of his friends. It might not amount to much, but if worst comes to worst, he could probably at least send them to Jisung’s mother and let all hell break loose. With that, he made his way out of the room, quietly down the hall, down the stairs, finally back out into the front yard. He was halfway down the pathway when a voice called out, “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin stopped, took one step back, then turned slowly on his heel to see Minho, already dressed, smiling, like a fucking demon. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t appreciate you sneaking into my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not sneaking if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> know the passcode and just walked in.” Hyunjin crossed his arms and swallowed the anxiety Minho’s presence tended to give him. “How did you know I was in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My phone </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> shows me video footage of whoever walks in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin laughed, pathetically. “Right. So you lied to Sungie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like doing that, but I didn’t think he’d be very happy to hear someone had broken in and was probably hiding somewhere in the room. He’s going through enough stress. I wonder who’s the cause of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me, that’s for sure,” Hyunjin snickered before he could help himself. “Oh, he got kicked out of his house, didn’t he? Poor kid. And just for being gay? Come on, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> gay these days?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wasn’t laughing, but there was not much indication on his face of anger either. “How’d you like the show? You do realize it’s obvious to tell if someone’s on the other side of that door right?” The silhouette, at least, of Hyunjin’s body had most likely been insanely obvious through the shutters. “Poor Soonie. Stuck there with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you knew I was in there, why did you two fuck right in front of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d been planning to get dicked down all morning, and I wasn’t about to let you get in the way of that.” Of course, Minho had no shame, so he still looked as jovial as ever, taking some steps forward so they were separated by only a foot of air. “What’s wrong? You seem uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin’s fingers were trembling, and he let them drop to his sides. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever fucked like that, Jinnie?” Hyunjin opened his mouth. “Have you ever had a boyfriend? A steady one?” Hyunjin tried hard to suppress the wince; he didn’t succeed. “I think you told me you don’t like commitment, but you’ve never been committed before in the first place. It’s actually kinda sad, you know, I feel for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your parents don’t love you, your friends don’t love you either. You don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to love, do you? It probably made you sick to see us.” A tilt to his head. “All things considered, I think it’s very sexy of Sungie and I to be so well-adjusted despite everything. We’re both going to Ivy Leagues without having to had cheat or fuck any admission officers.” Hyunjin’s blood froze in his veins. “Our lives are only gonna get better. That is, of course, if you don’t expose me for any shady stuff I’ve been doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin listened to the rolling wheels of some car drive past far behind him, hardly heard his own voice as he grumbled, “Better hope I don’t find out that shady stuff then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not hard to figure out.” Minho stepped aside, moved halfway around Hyunjin to stand by his side and stare at the road. “It was easy actually. Being the treasurer of so many clubs — I think I hit the million mark this year? A self-made millionaire while still in high school is pretty impressive. I almost want to brag.” Hyunjin blinked, shook his head. “What? Oh right, I forgot you’re stupid. I’ve been taking most club-earned money for myself. The school was never suspicious of our little club. I just said that and stole nearly all the earnings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It came out breathless — “Why-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m rich. Because I’m bored. Because it was easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Hyunjin shook his head another time, more distraught, dizzier. “Why are you telling me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you’d like to know.” Minho laughed, and Hyunjin could see all of hell in his eyes, “Just in case something happens to you.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span><br/>
It was Wednesday, the next day, and Hyunjin was pacing in front of the man-made pond, as Changbin read out names and profiles, and Seungmin was skipping pebbles over the surface. Whenever they hit one of their lily pads, he gained a point, supposedly. When he got ten points, he would switch with Changbin. Hyunjin refused to play, too busy pulling his hair out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He frequents gay bars.” Hyunjin’s head quickly turned to face Changbin in his school-dress-code-breaking Ralph Lauren polo underneath his blazer. He was looking through Seungmin’s phone. “Uh, he had a scandal at his old school because he slept with one of his students. He has a Masters in French Literature. Working on a PhD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found half of that on his LinkedIn,” Seungmin added, maneuvering around to find the right angle to toss the rock. “Half of that through some public court case files. I didn’t do any insane research, so don’t think I gave you some secretive ass info.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either way, it’s good.” Hyunjin was grinning and nodding, watching as Seungmin’s wrist flicked fast and the rock jumped across the pond’s surface. “Binnie, don’t read the other names. I have my target.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you gonna do?” Changbin looked up from his seat on the ground as Seungmin cheered, having hit a petal. “It’s not the 50s. Not like you can threaten to expose him for being gay. What if he doesn’t know all of Jeongin’s secrets?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop worrying your pretty little head,” Hyunjin dismissed, smiling up at the beaming sun and taking in the warmth. “I’ll deal with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hyunjin,” Seungmin called, one hand on his hip. “Can you take a picture of me, right here? With your phone. My camera broke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling giddy, Hyunjin just about chirped, “Sure.” He pulled his IPhone out, swiped to use the camera, then got into position. “Nice. Looking sexy, Minnie.” Seungmin laughed, putting out a peace sign, as the other snapped at least a dozen shots. “There.” He turned his phone to show Seungmin and didn’t react when he took it from his hands. “You like? I charge 50 per photo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, might want to bring that price down a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin waited, and waited. After a moment had passed, he realized Seungmin wasn’t simply zooming in and out or swiping through them — he was tapping, deleting, sending things. “What the fuck are you doing?” Hyunjin hastily took his phone back, checked the gallery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yay,” Seungmin laughed. “I’m free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Hyunjin skimmed through his photos, but Seungmin’s financial records were gone, so were the few pictures he’d taken of Minho and Jisung. “Holy shit. Minnie, you fucking rat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the pictures, though. I already sent them to my phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin heard Changbin get to his feet behind him, heard his chuckles, before he tossed Seungmin’s phone back to him. “Fuck,” Hyunjin cried. “Binnie, why would you give it back to him?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin easily caught his phone then slipped it into his pocket. “Sorry, Jinnie, our alliance ends here.” Hyunjin could hear his own heartbeat hard against his eardrums, tearing them to pieces. “Hey, I would have stuck by you to the end, but Minho called and told me he’d forgive my debt </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> he gave my family a couple thousand dollars? There’s no way I’m gonna stick with you, after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you wanted him gone!” Hyunjin whined. “You said you were gonna help me. I-I can still expose you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With what evidence? You’re so dumb.” He laughed and began to move backwards, walking away from them. “Minho told me to stop talking to you the moment I deleted everything off Recently Deleted, so guess this is goodbye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minnie, you’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rat</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Hyunjin nearly seethed it, reaching down, grabbing a clump of dirt, and throwing. It missed by a mile. “You’re a piece of shit! After everything we did together? After you made me watch your stupid movies?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin ignored him, shouted to Changbin as he approached a building. “Hey, Binnie, I’m still free tomorrow if you want to hang out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin didn’t hear Changbin’s answer, too busy throwing dirt and screaming as Seungmin turned a corner and left.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span><br/>
Tomorrow was Friday and Hyunjin was hiding in a stall scrolling through Reddit, wondering if it was too late to hire a hitman. He began to fantasize about the alternate universe where one of them, probably Chan, had simply killed Jin-young quietly, and none of them would have had reasons to be suspicious of each other, and they would all excitedly be getting ready for graduation. It was next Friday, after all, in exactly 8 days. By this point, Hyunjin was almost ready to accept Princeton as his fate, but everytime he looked through his walk-in closet, he would be haunted by the Harvard sweatshirt he’d gotten years ago. It reminded him that he hadn’t caused all this shit only because he was a nosy gossipy bitch; he wanted to go to Harvard; he wanted everyone out of his way, the baby bread more than anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he noticed what time it was, Hyunjin stood up, took a deep breath, then left the stall to check up on how he looked using the mirror above one of the sinks. He messed with the strands of hair falling over his face, tucked some behind an ear, and reapplied some makeup, particularly his pink lipgloss. He remembered how he once had bothered Felix in this very bathroom, and neither of them wanted to kill each other that bad. He told himself to stop thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Classes were switching, everyone was in the pure white hallways, walking between tall windows and whatever decor was hung up between the doors on the other side. It felt like a cage; Hyunjin moved between the uniformed students hazily, almost as if he were drunk — God, he wished he was — and like a priest, he wanted to blindly reach for his rosary so that it would ground him to reality. Except, his rosary was tucked under his top. It would be a pain to get it out now. His head was spinning as he neared the door that he knew led to the poetry workshop class he’d been looking for. Some juniors brushed past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A year ago, Jeongin had won nearly two dozen gold keys from the Scholastic Art &amp; Writing Awards for his poetry, to Seungmin’s 5-golden-key-winning bitterness. Someone had gossiped that Baby bread had simply paid someone to write him the poems, or paid a judger. The teacher that Hyunjin was currently locking eyes with, as he shut the door and locked it behind him, had no big connection Jeongin’s poetry, actually, but he had been the proctor for his ACT exam, according to the principal. And the funny thing about teachers is that even the ones at prep schools are underpaid; Hyunjin could hardly blame him for potentially taking Jeongin’s money and fixing the mistakes on the standardized test. He probably would have done the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” the teacher asked, brows furrowed. “Are you one of my students?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not,” Hyunjin said, sauntered towards him. “I’m from the room next door, but- I-I’ve always thought you were really handsome and I just…” It went off from there, and Hyunjin was so used to seducing people by this point that it came to him like a habit, or an impulse. He could hardly blame the teacher for giving in either; he knew he looked good, and he figured trying to teach poetry to a group of pretentious high schoolers was nothing but unrelieved tension. He was happy to ride his cock, to slip his tongue into the man’s mouth; all things considered, at least he was young, maybe just ten years older. The principal had been a much, much worse fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had left his phone recording in his backpack, laying on the floor right by the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he heard the teacher groan, the type he recognized as nearing-orgasm Hyunjin pulled off, reached down, grabbed him by the tip, then dug in his nails, nearly enough to cut skin. The man shouted out, but Hyunjin wasted no time in threatening, “I have a camera recording all of this.” It was actually only recording audio. “If you don’t want to lose your job, I want you to answer me truthfully.” He released him of some of the pressure of his nails. “Did you help Jeongin cheat on his ACT?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-What?” The quiver in his voice gave Hyunjin a shot of pleasure, like drinking and feeling it burn and crackle in the pit of your stomach. He could get off on the fear in the teacher’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer me. I’ll get you thrown in jail if you don’t. If you tell me he cheated, I won’t do anything to you. This isn’t because I give a shit about standardized test integrity. I want to know if Jeongin cheated. Tell me how much he paid you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any argument he had was consumed by a high hiss as Hyunjin dug in his nails again. He blurted: “Four h-hundred thousand- Stop- Stop-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Hyunjin smiled and laughed. “Thank you for letting me know, mister.” He removed his hand, sunk back down onto his cock, and finished up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teacher was shaking after they were done, sitting at his desk chair as Hyunjin redressed and went to the door. He weakly called out to him, sitting there with his limp dick still out of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked pathetic, so Hyunjin decided to reassure him. “My beef isn’t with you. Don’t sweat about it. You’ll keep your job.” He unlocked the door, stepped out, and was about to victoriously skip out of the building. But then Jeongin was standing at the end of the hall, looking around. When their gazes met, they both waved. “Hey there, Baby bread,” Hyunjin greeted with a tease as he made his way to him. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing in there? I thought you hate poetry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been getting into it,” Hyunjin lied. “I’ve been reading all the greats: Stephen Hawking, Emiliano Zapata, Marie Curie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of those people are poets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it mean to be a poet, anyway?” Hyunjin smiled. “But anyway, what about you? Shouldn’t you be in class?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about to end. I got out a little early.” Jeongin crossed his arms, looked Hyunjin up and down. “You’re sweaty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the fever. I’m sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The coronavirus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” The bell rang, students began to file out of their classrooms, walked beside them, but the two kept standing still and staring at each other. “Jinnie,” he said it kindly, in an entirely artificial way. “What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin tried not to be impulsive, he really did. “I think it’s a little fucked up the way you paid your way through your entire high school career, Baby bread.” He didn’t miss the way Jeongin’s face visibly tightened. “On homework, on quizzes, on tests, even on the fucking ACT? Dude. Is there anything you did for yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t cheat on anything,” spoken stiffly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cheater-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>may</span>
  </em>
  <span> have looked up answers on Quizlet once or twice,” Hyunjin laughed with a toss of his head. “And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>may</span>
  </em>
  <span> have looked over at what someone next to me might be bubbling in for multiple choice quizzes, but… Come on, four hundred thousand? That’s nearly half a million! If we got an investigation going, I think a lot of teachers would lose their jobs, and you would get blacklisted from every college on the fucking planet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a presence, suddenly, not far behind Hyunjin. It was familiar. It was one he recognized. He knew who was nearby, and it made him want to slap Jeongin from saying anything, but there was nothing he could do. “Big talk from the guy that’s been fucking the principal since last year. He’s been letting you change your grades, right? He wrote you a recommendation letter, didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin’s blood was freezing cold. “Shit. Wait-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho and I got our hands on security footage. That’s what you’re doing right? Going into the boomer’s office and then coming out all fucked out an hour later? You’re sucking his cock to get into your dream school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeongin,” Hyunjin snapped. “Shut the fuck up.” He could feel Changbin getting closer. “Shut the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you fucked that teacher for information. You’re so fucked up, Hyunjin. I’ve done shitty things, but I never stooped that low. I never-” Jeongin stopped; Changbin had appeared by Hyunjin’s shivering side. “Binnie,” he said lowly. “Did you know about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin was staring at his loafers, the heavy weight on his chest making it hard for him to breathe, hard for his lungs to even expand. “Binnie,” he whispered, but he couldn’t continue. He had no fucking excuse. He had absolutely nothing. “P-Please.” Heavily, he looked up, but Changbin was only staring at Jeongin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Changbin answered as the halls were finally clearing around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Jeongin was smiling, laughing almost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s pretty fucking disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin nearly collapsed as he saw Changbin, wordlessly, turn on his heel. He called out to him, “Binnie! Binnie, wait!” He wasn’t chasing after him, but he was out of breath regardless. “It’s not- Don’t-” He held his backpack tight as he followed quickly, too exhausted to sprint as much as he wanted to. As Changbin headed for the doors, Hyunjin tripped, nearly fell, and looked down only to stop entirely. It was Changbin’s golden ring; it had fallen off.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was a navy technical fabric single-breasted Prada suit, which hadn’t been his first choice. Hyunjin had gone through the trouble of getting a Louis Vuitton suit fitted months before, but he accidentally spilled coffee on it Friday morning while trying it on. He was so furious he threw the mug at a wall, saw it shatter, and then broke down on the floor in screams. After sobbing there uselessly while some maids cleaned around him, he’d decided on the Prada. It was a little tight, but it was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had no intention to stick around Seniors’ Night anyway. He had no one to fucking talk to anymore. He didn’t have the appetite to eat the dinner they’d serve, either, and he didn’t have the energy to pretend to like anyone who might approach him with congratulations for winning Most Handsome. He was feeling ill — nauseous, head pounding, skin burning hot — but he couldn’t not go either. He had agreed to expose Baby bread and Minho, to tell Chan and Felix their secrets before getting Jeongin rescinded and Minho… potentially put in prison? Minho would most likely be fine, legally. Hyunjin was aware of that, but there was the chance he might get rescinded too. Well, given that it was Wharton, Minho might gain a full-ride scholarship instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By 6 pm, Hyunjin was sitting in the backseat of his stupid shit car, staring out the window, watching the city and its residents go about their evening. He kept thinking about Jeongin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had cheated too, in a way. He hadn’t paid hundreds of thousands for someone to adjust his ACT scores, nor had he done the same for regular tests, quizzes, and homework, but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> it mean to cheat anyway? Google said it was to “act dishonestly or unfairly in order to gain an advantage,” and Hyunjin was entirely unfairly advantaged. Even disregarding the whole fucking-the-principal situation, he had access to a hundred private tutors, academic resources, research-intership opportunities, connections and connections and connections. Everyone at his school was cheating — to say Jeongin’s cheating was solely bad was to ignore that everyone was also wasting an obscene amount of money to gain an unfair advantage: attend a prep school with a tuition cost that would drive a normal family bankrupt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped out of the car, adjusting a silver bracelet, then adjusting the rosary he had placed to rest over his blazer. His breathing was heavy; Hyunjin could see others exiting their cars nearby, making their way down a pathway to the school auditorium, all dressed in designer, some in knock-offs. Hyunjin wanted to make fun of them, but he had no one to gossip to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to make his way into the building, past the open doors, when his phone buzzed in his pants. He pulled it out, stared at Felix’s text: “jinnie, where are u”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“barely about to go in why what do u want”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did ur parents come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did yours”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“point taken. Come to the library”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“no i want my most handsome award”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“too bad. come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was on the other side of campus, so Hyunjin groaned and jogged back to the parking lot. He called his driver, whining for him to come back and drive him around. He knew it would piss him off, but Hyunjin was also pissed off and was more than willing to spread that around. It took around ten minutes, which was about the time it would have taken Hyunjin to walk to the library, but his driver returned. He did as told and drove around the school so that they were on the complete opposite side, and then Hyunjin stepped out with a sigh, “Thanks.” He slammed the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The interior of the library was stupid. It was all walnut and mahogany wood, making up the rows of high bookshelves and the floor beneath them. To fight claustrophobia, once he turned the flickering lights on, he tried to walk beside one of the far left walls, where study desks were lined up by narrow windows that showed nothing but darkness and the distant forest that went on for eternity. Hyunjin texted Felix where to go but received no response. He pouted and decided to turn into the maze of dusty books and magazine collections. Around some corners, there were busts, not made of marble, but some cheap material that tried to mimic it. Hyunjin didn’t recognize any of the faces; they might have been philosophers or mathematicians or writers or greats of some sort, but he’d never learned any of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fine. Harvard has grade inflation. No one there probably knew the bust people either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came upon the center of the library where the thick librarian’s desk, almost identical to the principal’s, sat. There was an Apple desktop sitting on it, and a mouse and keyboard, along with a short stack of books. Hyunjin moved towards it and picked a candy wrapper off the keyboard, tossed it into a full waste bin. He felt like all the busts were staring at him, judging the shape of his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin turned, saw the open front doors from here, saw the figures of a few people. He raised a brow. “Felix?” he called. “Chan?” He listened faintly to the sound of his own footsteps as he moved in, between the tightly packed shelves, towards them. “M… Minho?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jinnie,” Minho greeted, standing beside Jeongin, and then Hyunjin realized everyone was there, standing by the door. Jisung and Seungmin, Felix and Chan, Minho and Jeongin, and finally, Changbin. They stood in a line, in their own Prada, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and they were blocking the way out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin looked between them all, but he couldn’t make out their expressions. “What are you all doing here?” The tremble to his voice was obvious, and he brought his hand to hold his other wrist as anxiety bubbled in his stomach, made him hot, just about made him sweat. “What the fuck is happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Jeongin said. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Baby bread,” Hyunjin blurted, “someone else answer me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just gonna…” Seungmin held his chin and tilted his head so he looked like the thinking emoji. “Scare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood was boiling. “Scare me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Chan said, “the same way we wanted to scare Jin-young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had no time to react, Felix tossed a lit match to the side; a corner to a bookshelf ignited in orange before it climbed up the wood, grew and grew in intensity in seconds. The seven hurriedly moved some steps back, out of the library, even as Hyunjin instantly broke out into a sprint towards the doors. He crashed against them just as Minho clicked the locks in place, and through the windows, Hyunjin saw him grin. He banged his hands against the glass, but it was thick — a fucking school shooting countermeasure — and he grabbed the knobs and tried to shake them. He was saying useless, incomprensible shit under his breath and then he was banging on the door again, feeling the heat of the nearby fire catch onto other shelves and move closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin screamed at them, shouting, “No! Fuck you, guys! Let me out! Fuck. Let me out, I’m sorry! I won’t say anything, I promise! I’m sorry!” When his voice broke, and he realized he was choking out tears, he saw Changbin, standing next to everyone who still had no expression he could read. His vision was blurry, his throat was clogged — the combination of building smoke and his own desperation — but he could see Changbin’s grimace. He could see the conflict and pain on his mouth and over his eyes, so Hyunjin called out to him and begged for help, but he realized none of them could probably hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before Hyunjin began to double over with coughs, before he had no choice but to move away from the fire consuming the area by the door. He couldn’t see anything else but flames, not the faces of his friends or of the busts. In his head, he was smelling Jin-young’s burning flesh again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the late update x2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. genesis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yeah i replaced that Guy with jyp anyway enjoy the last chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was unbearable. The pain -- it was as if someone had lit a match, brought it centimeters from Hyunjin’s face and let the fire heat his skin until it grew indistinguishable to the feeling of being <em> cooked </em>, charred. Actually, there was no “as if” about it. It was happening. Itchy eyelids dragged open as his friend drew the match away, and he was wondering if his cheek was red the way a bruise was or maybe a blood clot. Once the altar boy inched back, he lit the cigarette he had been holding with his other hand; when he took a drag then blew the smoke out of his nose, Hyunjin watched with the warmth of his face still lingering. The other’s hazel eyes met his own, through the wispy gaps in the dark haze obscuring the air between them; the air was thick; it was sitting on his chest and squeezing his ribs until they punctured his lungs. He felt like blood was going to start spilling from his mouth.</p><p>He stared intensely at the altar boy’s lips.</p><p>“Do you want one?”</p><p>Hyunjin blinked a few times, then his hands came to rest over his knees to dig his nails into the khaki. “Uh-” Whenever he stuttered like that, he knew looked stupid -- doopy wide eyes and an open, hanging mouth. “No. N-No.” Shaking his head, he realized that would only make him look stupider, but the other was showing off teeth -- teeth that were yellowing at such a rate they would probably all fall off by his 14th birthday -- in a lazy, amused grin as he moved the cigarette away from his mouth. He probably thought it was cute that Hyunjin was so dumb. He was starting to get used to people thinking that about him, beginning to enjoy it almost. With nowhere to run away from the gaze of the other, he leaned back on the bench, so his back pressed into the wall of the chapel behind them. The trees they faced were bare, like deformed timber hands with a dozen thin fingers that spiraled every which way. There were some patches of melting snow.</p><p>“Don’t you want to try?”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>The church bell chimed every hour on the hour, and it did then. Hyunjin listened to it with clogged ears as he remembered that only a few minutes ago, he and the other boy had finished their duties. Hyunjin could still feel the weight of the golden bells he had shook earlier as the priest held his hands over the bread and wine, said some words that Hyunjin had heard thousands of times but had never really heard. He breathed, almost surprised when no smoke came out the way it kept hopping out of the other altar server’s laughs. </p><p>Neither of them wanted to be here. Their middle school just required monthly out-of-school church involvement. Neither of their parents had come to pick them up yet; or, in Hyunjin’s case, the driver. It was like something out of a movie, really. Him, the preppy kid who skipped gym, sitting behind a chapel with the cool jock from his class. It almost made him want to cry. </p><p>When the other finally put out his cigarette, Hyunjin asked if he had a girlfriend. He said yes. Hyunjin said he was still waiting for the right girl. And he was, allegedly. He hadn’t quite figured anything out yet. He had looked through some magazines recently, turned to the first man he saw and talked about how much he liked curvy girls with long hair up to their waists. He shouted it and walked with a strut and even gave a head nod to some confused adult man. He probably looked ridiculous, maybe worse than that if anyone had caught him earlier staring at the men’s boxer briefs aisle for ten minutes straight. He’d planned an answer in his head in case anyone asked -- ‘Checking out how I’m gonna look once I get ripped!’ No one asked; Hyunjin kept saying it in his head anyway, all the while wondering why he was trying to sound convincing when it was the truth. </p><p>It’s not like he was gay for real. That would be gross. And a sin, too.</p><p>“You’re kinda cute.”</p><p>So. Maybe he was a little gay, but everyone is. He could live with that but he still likes women more. He had a folded poster of the Spice Girls in his drawer, even. A Britney Spears one too somewhere. “Ew, are you a homo?”</p><p>“You’re blushing. You like it.”</p><p>“It’s a fever. I’m sick.” </p><p>The jock wasn’t all that handsome, but he was tall, and his voice was deep already, and Hyunjin’s cracked with every other syllable. And, why on earth was he feeling so hot and jittery and breathless? Maybe he really was sick; he was starting to see spots, and his brow was growing damp. It was gross. One leg bouncing restless against the floor, he turned to face the other altar server when he realized he was leaning in. Hyunjin was in the perfect position to kick, to punch. He kissed him hesitantly instead. </p><p>The taste on his lips was cinder. Ash. Burnt wood. And it made him cough afterwards.</p><p>Him and the alter boy were on and off for a few years. Hyunjin called him his boyfriend in his diary; he called him his boyfriend in his head. They spent more of their time away from each other, but they were together, theoretically at least. He was an asshole, who pulled Hyunjin’s hair all the time and called him names and beat him against the ground a few times, but they were still a couple despite it. Hyunjin broke it off one day impulsively. He imagined his life would improve afterwards. He figured he’d find a proper boyfriend and settle himself emotionally. He didn’t.</p>
<hr/><p>The lung tissue inflammation was gone now; there had been some concern over increased blood clotting, possibilities of a stroke, and heart arrhythmia, but he was young and healthy. They told him he’d recover just fine. So he did. He extended his stay at the hospital for a few too many days -- truthfully he hadn’t needed more than one or two -- and then skipped the last week of school. He’d told the principal that he was traumatized from the fire. He wasn’t sure if that was a lie to begin with, but he was believed anyway. Hyunjin spent graduation at his apartment, with his parents, eating dinner and not talking. They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t say much either when Hyunjin got his graduation certificate in the mail. </p><p>It was precisely six days into summer — four since Hyunjin’s parents had abandoned him for Italy — that he got a text at seven in the morning. It read: “Hey. Get breakfast with me at nine today”. He had to look it over multiple times, half-awake because he hadn’t really slept for days. He watched as a location was sent to him, and then he decided not to reply as he dragged his body out of bed and into a bath. He spent the next few hours trying to make himself look presentable, to adjust his clothes and look in the mirror and see if he recognized himself.</p><p>If you’re curious, there were no scars. No burns beyond the way his skin had been flushed red when the firefighters broke into the library. But that heat on him was gone now. His face was the same as always, perfectly curved in the right places and edged in others. When he forced a smile, with teeth and all, he witnessed his eyes squint in the mirror, and it was almost natural-looking but not quite. When he laughed, it was dry. It would most likely be a while before it would stop sounding like that. On pink lips, he was still tasting cinder and ash.</p><p>In the backseat of his car, he wore a $925 Versace cotton poplin shirt tucked into jeans. Jeans. He was a disaster.</p><p>Hyunjin mumbled a thanks to his driver when they arrived at the hotel, stepped out, and feigned business by tapping at his phone needlessly as he made his way through rotating doors. In the ornate lobby, some staff asked if he was here to check-in, or meet someone. He had met one or two men here before. </p><p>He took a breath, deep and loud. His lungs still felt as if they weren’t filling, as if they weren’t expanding enough. The doctors had told him he was fine. He was perfectly fine. But he could hardly breathe all the time. He could hardly even stand.</p><p>Hyunjin told the staff he was just going to their restaurant, and he ignored them when they attempted to give directions. He made his way over a navy carpet, past an entryway arch, and beside recreations of classical Caravaggio paintings to reach the luxurious ballroom-like space with tall windows and hanging crystal chandeliers. At one corner, there were some date tables draped over with white cloths Hyunjin imagined spilling wine over. When he caught the person he was looking for sitting all alone, he walked to him, slid into the cushioned seat in front. </p><p>“I ordered you a mimosa,” the baby bread said. “You like those right?” An amicable smile.</p><p>“I can’t drink it,” Hyunjin lied, taking the menu and flipping through it. “Maybe you should be a little bit more concerned about my condition. I almost died, you know. I might even <em> be </em> dying. The doctors said I might have lung cancer.”</p><p>“Minho always says we should all live happy and die of natural causes.” Jeongin’s smile had twisted into a grin, and he rested a propped up elbow over the table mantle. He sat his chin on the palm of his hand. “Cancer is pretty natural, isn’t it?”</p><p>“What’s natural is gonna be my entire foot up your asshole unless you tell me why you invited me here.” Hyunjin ignored the face of the waiter as he carefully set a mimosa down in front of him. Hyunjin took it, drank.</p><p>“Thought you couldn’t drink,” Jeongin teased as the waiter kept standing awkwardly beside them.</p><p>Enjoying making service workers suffer, Hyunjin kept ignoring him and replied, “I lied. You’re fine with that, right? I mean, you lied about your entire high school career.”</p><p>“So did you.”</p><p>Groan. “What we did isn’t on the same level. You literally know that.”</p><p>“You’re right!” Jeongin chirped. “I didn’t go so far as to bend over for a boomer.”</p><p>“I hardly bent over,” Hyunjin snapped back. “He’s a boomer, remember? Missionary only.”</p><p>The waiter finally found his courage, cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I’m sorry, but may I please take your orders?” Looking up at him now, Hyunjin realized he was handsome, and he almost felt bad. He gave him his order, as did Jeongin, then they watched him leave.</p><p>“You didn’t have to say that.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Hyunjin played with the glass champagne flute in his hand, watching the sunny yellow-orange cocktail swirl. With sweet citrus on his tongue, he went on, “Why did you invite me here?”</p><p>“You missed prom. And graduation.”</p><p>“Did you guys miss me?” Unlike the taste in his mouth, Hyunjin’s words were bitter and sour. “Was prom boring without me?”</p><p>“We didn’t miss you.” Hyunjin couldn’t help the flinch, especially when Jeongin was smiling, bringing his mimosa to his lips and sipping. “I actually had a really good time. The most relaxed I’ve been ever. We had an afterparty at Chan’s.” Hyunjin realized the surface of his drink was rippling; his hands were trembling. He licked his lips, somehow chapped even though he’d applied layers of sparkly lip gloss earlier. “I don’t even think we mentioned you once. Oh! Wait. Felix asked if you got burned at all. None of us knew then.”</p><p>“You could have called.”</p><p>“We didn’t want to hear your voice.”</p><p>Hyunjin set his drink down, swallowed thick. “Why the fuck did you invite me here? Since you obviously don’t give a shit about how I’ve been doing.”</p><p>“Not missing you doesn’t mean we don’t care. I’m here to make peace. End the attacks on each other.”</p><p>Hyunjin blinked, then did it again. “What the fuck? ‘Attacks?’ Are we politicians now?”</p><p>Jeongin raised his empty mimosa glass, indicating for someone to get him some more. “We’re all hanging out at Minho’s this Monday. You know, regular meeting time. We wanted to invite you, but we figured you’d still be… a little mad, so I’m here to settle everything.”</p><p>“Settle.” A beat of silence. “So you’re going to apologize to me.” He laughed with a toss of his head, clapped his hands together. “Then get on your fucking knees and either kiss my shoes or suck my cock. I hate you.” Jeongin was pouting. “Fuck you. You all tried to kill me and now you want to apologize?”</p><p>“Who said I was gonna apologize? Do you think I feel guilty? I don’t. None of us do. We don’t feel bad, and we don’t miss <em> you </em>. But whenever we get booths at restaurants, there’s always an empty spot where you sit. We don’t like change. So, we wanted to know if you could pretend like all that shit with the fire and drugs and guns never happened. Come on. We all want to hang out without you making it weird.”</p><p>“What the fuck.”</p><p>“What? You <em> want </em> to remember everything?” Jeongin’s drink finally arrived, and he stared at it but made no move to take it. “I thought we were over it. You’re fine, aren’t you?”</p><p>‘No!’ Hyunjin wanted to cry. ‘You tried to kill me! You all tried to fucking kill me! I can’t fucking breathe. The doctors say I can, but I can’t, and I’m going to fucking die.’ “Fuck you,” he said out loud. “You just want me to get over it? To trust you guys again?”</p><p>“You <em> trusted </em> us?”</p><p>Hyunjin nearly stood, flipped the table, but froze solid instead. His lips were parted, and he could hear his own breaths flowing in and out, filling his throat with dry air that scrapped against his esophagus. A laugh bubbled up in the pit of his stomach, but he tried to stifle it by hanging his head and staring at his lap. “You tried to kill me,” he said, ignoring Jeongin’s question. Because the answer was obvious, because he had never trusted them in the first place, because he had befriended them knowing they were dangerous, because Hyunjin was not an innocent victim in any goddamn way. “You all left me to die.”</p><p>“But you didn’t.” A flicker of his gaze upwards made him aware of a pleased, patient expression plastered over Jeongin’s face. “You’re here and you’re alive and we all want to hang out on Monday. So how about you forgive us?”</p><p>Hyunjin closed his mouth, swallowed. “Why didn’t you kill me?”</p><p>Raised eyebrow. “Mm?”</p><p>“Who called the firefighters? We-We were on the other side of campus. I doubt anyone just casually saw us. So who…?”</p><p>“It wasn’t me.” Shrug. “Most of us thought you were really gonna die back there. You’re lucky, since we broke all the fire alarms too. One of us must have felt bad in the end. Too bad it wasn’t me.” And then a toothy grin ate his face alive. “But hey, it looks like you learned your lesson, right?”</p><p>“What fucking lesson? I learned nothing.”</p><p>“I was gonna say at least you learned not to snitch.” He turned back to his mimosa, sitting quiet where it was. “This is probably better, for all of us, though.”</p><p>“Jesus fuck, can you stop being mysterious?” Hyunjin leaned back into his seat, wanted to roll his eyes but couldn’t when his gaze refused to leave Jeongin for a singular second. He was breathing too loudly; he could hear it over the chatter of the other customers at the stupid hotel resturant. “<em> What’s </em> better for everyone?”</p><p>“That you didn’t learn anything, I mean. Because…” His lips pursed, as if he were searching for the right words to string together. “Because I think we all want to pretend like this never happened.” Hyunjin was hot all of a sudden, and he wondered if the sweating would turn into panting at any moment, if he would collapse on the floor. “Let’s just forget about it, so we can all be friends again.”</p><p>“Jeongin.” The name was unfamiliar on Hyunjin’s tongue, like he didn’t know who it belonged to.</p><p>“When Jin-young died, we were supposed to go back to normal. We were supposed to forget it. We were supposed to act like it never happened.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s breathing was still loud, and he could see it now, fogging his vision until it blurred. At the corners of his eyes, he wondered if tears were gathering, or if it was nothing more than his imagination, making a big deal out of him not blinking for too long. He wanted to crumble to the ground, peel back his skin to search for the pain that was weighing down his heart so hard it was falling against his lungs. He couldn’t breath. His rosary was choking him; the beads were digging in and crushing the base of his throat. “I- We can’t do that, you fucking psychopath.”</p><p>“Jinnie, you’re being so dramatic.”</p><p>“You all tried to kill me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You all tried to fucking burn me alive.”</p><p>“How could you say that? We would never.”</p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>“I think you made it all up.” The waiter approached with their food, but Hyunjin could only see the glee in Jeongin’s eyes. “I think that never happened.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hyunjin set the scissors down, then ripped the rest of the packaging with bare hands. “Ooo.” He pulled out the Givenchy astral print shirt with muted greens and gold designs. “What do we think?” From his seat on the floor, he lifted it up to show Seungmin, who was laying on the couch not far from him. </p><p>He looked up from his copy of <em> The Picture of Dorian Gray </em>. “What’s with all the print lately?”</p><p>“Men’s fashion is running out of ideas.”</p><p>“Why don’t you do what I do and get all your clothes from the vintage tag on Depop?”</p><p>“Fucking <em> Depop </em>? Minnie, you’re better than that.”</p><p>He scoffed and went back to flipping through his book, stuffed with white sticky notes, bookmarks; he’d written all over it too. “At least I don’t look like I’m walking around with a giant sign that says <em> gay </em> on the back.”</p><p>“And why not? It’s pride month. Stop being so self-hating.” As Seungmin laughed, Hyunjin hopped onto his feet and moved to dust off his pants before remembering he was wearing shorts -- pride-themed ones, to be exact. He settled his hands on his hips, facing the windows of his apartment. “Hey, aren’t you bored?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I can get us some plane tickets right now. Where should we go? South America? Europe?”</p><p>Seungmin looked up, paused, then asked, “Are you free to just leave the country all of a sudden?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be free?”</p><p>“I’ve been curious about whether or not the fire had any lasting health effects on you.”</p><p>It would be a lie to say Hyunjin’s blood ran cold or that he was even surprised. It had been three days since the meeting with Baby bread, and Seungmin had called yesterday to see if they could hang out today. Hyunjin knew Seungmin well enough to figure that he would ask him about it. Even if they had all made an agreement, without Hyunjin, to forget it all, everyone had proven themselves to be a two-faced liar; this wasn’t out of the ordinary at all. But, hey, maybe they <em> would </em> all forget the insanity of their last weeks at school, but not yet. </p><p>“I have 4 months to live,” Hyunjin replied before spinning on his heel, making his way to the couch, then plopping down beside his friend. “The doctor said I’m gonna die, and it’s all the fault of the stupid homos that tried to kill me.” When Seungmin didn’t immediately reply, Hyunjin blurted, “Hurry.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Apologize.”</p><p>Seungmin laughed with a clap of his hands, nearly dropping his book. “What? Why? I don’t feel bad. Even less now that I know you’re fine and you’ve just been dramatic the whole time.”</p><p>Hyunjin pouted. As per usual, he told himself not to wonder about the implications of anyone’s words, but he did anyway. “So you would have felt bad if something <em> actually </em> happened to me?”</p><p>“Mm, who knows?” He sing-songed it. “It doesn’t really matter. You’re alive and well. My conscience is clear.” He hugged his book to his chest. “And you’re pretty powerless too, I suppose. You lost proof of mostly everything, and I’m pretty sure you realize that trying anything now will just get you actually killed.” He gave him some sort of amused expression with a quirked up eyebrow. “But how have you been, you know, emotionally?”</p><p>Hyunjin snorted and turned to face the blank television. “Fuck off, I’m fine. I-” He tried to sigh, he still sounded breathless. “I want to know who called the fire department. I was talking to Baby bread about it. I mean, there’s no way someone just-”</p><p>“Oh, that? It was me.”</p><p>Hyunjin stopped, blinked a couple times. “What?” He craned his neck back to the side, to see Seungmin back to flipping through his book. “You?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Seungmin skimmed some notes he had about Dorian Gray and stabbing as a metaphor for gay sex. “Called beforehand so they’d get there in time and everything.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>A smile teased the ends of Seungmin’s lips up. “What? Expecting someone else?”</p><p>Hyunjin shifted, both his gaze and body, then said, “Off-topic, but where’s Binnie?”</p><p>“I was with him yesterday. We went to the movies.” What the fuck. “We saw Mulan. It was… a lot, but I’m not into those types of movies anyway. Changbin likes kid’s movies though. Isn’t that cute? Maybe I’ll ask him out.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Hyunjin crossed his arms and wished he could disappear into the couch. “Has he asked about me?” He was reaching blindly into his pockets for his phone.</p><p>“Not really. He doesn’t seem very happy with you, though.” Hyunjin quickly searched for Changbin’s name, clicked to send him a text, then stared. The last thing he had sent him was a long paragraph detailing that he was sorry for fucking the prinicpal, and for not telling him, even though it was none of his business. “He said he was busy this Monday, so he might not hang out with us. I think he just said that so he doesn’t have to see you.”</p><p>Hyunjin typed, then deleted, then typed again.</p><p>“You know, he probably blocked you.”</p><p>Hyunjin typed, “hey binnie can u answer me please” and then “u can fuck my legs again if u want just answer me please”.</p>
<hr/><p>Doctor appointments consisted of check-ups and follow-ups and “you’re fine,” “stop worrying,” “you’ll actually develop something if you keep worrying.” And, Hyunjin didn't really know if he wanted to ‘develop’ something or not. As far as he was aware, he was already in the <em> middle </em> of developing something. No matter how far he opened his mouth or how much he felt his chest rise, there was something keeping his lungs from taking in as much air as they’re supposed to. He’d seen the x-rays already, been scolded for thinking there was a fog there when there clearly wasn’t. He was fine. He figured the nurses and doctors were mentally saying, ‘Stop being such a paranoid bitch. Nothing actually happened to you. You were trapped with the fire for five minutes maximum. You’re fine, dumbfuck.’ Except, Hyunjin didn’t feel fine. He felt like every day his throat was clogging further -- was clogged enough already that every night he wondered if he wouldn’t wake up.</p><p>It was all in his head. He knew that. He was fine. It was as if it’d never happened. </p><p>“Any updates on the waitlist, Jinnie?”</p><p>Hyunjin looked up from his McFlurry at Felix. For once, he wasn’t overdressed -- in a bright red tank top that openly showed off his arms with fading patches of bruises primarily around his wrists and biceps. A jean jacket was wrapped around his waist, obviously for when they’d get up to leave, but for now, he seemed perfectly fine with Hyunjin witnessing the marks of his on-going abuse. Though everything was supposed to have gone back to normal, there were at least little things like this that had changed. “I haven’t checked,” he admitted after a moment. “I’ve been, like, depressed.”</p><p>Felix laughed. “Oh man, me too.” His hair was strawberry blonde, which pissed Hyunjin off, because that was supposed to be <em> his </em> fucking look, and the last thing he needed right now was for Felix’s Instagram following to surpass him anymore than it already had. “But, hey, it’s summer. You should relax. Even if you don’t get into Harvard, you’re still going to Princeton. It’ll be fun.”</p><p>“Do you know if Baby bread got off the waitlist? I talked to him the other day, but he didn’t mention it.” Quickly, he moved to scoop the last of his ice cream into his mouth, noticing that Felix had finished his meal of 4 hashbrowns minutes ago. </p><p>“Nah, I have no idea. I think he didn’t though, or maybe he just got it through his thick fucking skull that Stanford is just as good as Harvard. I <em> do </em> know he sent in his final transcript a while ago.”</p><p>Dabbing a napkin at the white dribbling down his lips distractedly, Hyunjin tilted his head. “Where are <em> you </em> going, by the way?”</p><p>“According to my parents, London School Of Economics.”</p><p>Hyunjin choked.</p><p>“According to me, Boston University. I want to be close to Chan.”</p><p>“I hope you two break up.”</p><p>“Mm, at least I have someone to break up with.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s brow furrowed, and he set down his finished McFlurry. “You’re being mean to me. Don’t be mean to me. You’re not allowed. We’re on a date.” They hadn’t planned to hangout; they had just found each other while shopping and decided to spend the day together taking cute photos and tricking their followers into thinking they were relatable high school graduates that just so happened to be super hot. </p><p>“Oh no. I better let Chan know.”</p><p>“Would he be into a threesome?” </p><p>“In general? Probably. With you? No.”</p><p>Hyunjin laughed before he could help it. “Oh. That reminds me, did you know Minho and Sungie are fucking?”</p><p>Felix, surprisingly, lit up. “What? Sungie likes guys? <em> Minho </em> likes guys?”</p><p>“Are you stupid?” Felix’s mouth twitched. “Of course they do. Damn, get your gaydar checked up.”</p><p>“Well, I guess it’s obvious now that I think about it. He’s been spending all his time with Minho. Supposedly they’re gonna go on vacation together.”</p><p>“Where to?”</p><p>“Uh. Minho wanted to pad Jisung’s resume with some volunteer work so I think they’re going to Guatemala to do something. Knowing Minho, it’ll probably be big.”</p><p>Hyunjin giggled. “Minho planning on financing some death squads?”</p><p>“Less obvious than that.” Felix tapped his cheek; Hyunjin had the urge to pinch it. “I think he’s gonna get Jisung to film some people, ask them a couple questions, and put like, slam poetry over it.”</p><p>“Uh. Why?”</p><p>“Minho says third world mysticism is a lucrative business.” Felix began to tug at the jacket by his waist before pulling it up and slipping it back on. “Also, supposedly he wants to donate a few bucks.”</p><p>“Aha.” Hyunjin’s head was starting to pound, and as per usual, he checked if Changbin had texted back the moment he pulled his phone out. Nothing, as expected. He stared at his home screen for all of three seconds before saying, “Hey, come here.”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“Let’s take a pic. Sit on my lap, it’ll look super cute.”</p><p>Felix rolled his eyes, but smiled, as if he were dealing with a child, or a dog. He stood, made his way over, then promptly took a seat on Hyunjin’s thighs. “Want me to kiss you too?”</p><p>“Hmmmmm.” Hyunjin couldn’t help a smile. “That <em> would </em> get me more likes, I think.”</p><p>“Only on the cheek though. I have a boyfriend.”</p><p>“But won’t your parents see?”</p><p>“It’s fine. Might as well drop some hints before I elope with Chan.”</p><p>“I think the hair was hint enough, but okay.”</p><p>Hyunjin managed to snap a cute, candid-type photo with Felix laughing and his pink lips pressed to the other’s cheek. </p>
<hr/><p>Things weren’t boring. It might have seemed that way, but they weren’t. In between sending frantic texts to Changbin that received no response -- they had gone from “please answer me” to a personal diary of “i had a good today i saw felix and he’s a stupid bitch that copied my hair but its fine its whatever” - and pretending like everything was fine with the others, and drinking Gran Patron Burdeos Anejo Tequila, and blasting Lana Del Rey’s entire discography, and watching movies and crying and <em> not </em> fucking anyone but investing in a properly anneald glass dildo that he now kept at his bedside constantly. By this point he was starting to wonder if he should invest in a therapist, or a real friend, but if he hadn’t trusted the concept of friendship before, he definitely didn’t now. And so here he was, on his bathroom floor with runny mascara, wearing his favorite pink silk robe, on the phone with a suicide hotline. He was telling them that he didn’t actually want to kill himself, he just wanted to talk.</p><p>He figured he didn’t have the cognitive capabilities to consider suicide annyway. ‘Congratulations, Jinnie!’ he was saying in his head. ‘You got what you wanted! There’s not a thought in your head. You’re nothing but brainless -- and breathless, too! For no fucking reason.’</p><p>Once he decided he was fine, he told the caller that he was cool now. He hung up, stood up, stared at his reflection, then started padding the wetness on his face, as if he could make it all go away with just some taps of his fingers. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. His bottom lip wobbled, and he laughed when he noticed the streaks of black under his eyes. He started laughing so much he almost cried again, and it was tough, but he willed his hands to turn on the faucet and grab some makeup wipes. He still had an hour to make himself look presentable. He succeeded, perfectly. No one would notice that pretty-faced Hyunjin with his glossed lips and curled eyelashes had been having a breakdown earlier, on the verge of smashing his face against the ground until his skull split deadset between his eyes.</p><p>It was as if it never happened.</p><p>On the way to Minho’s, he texted Changbin again. He told him that he called a suicide hotline, but he didn’t really mean it in a guiltrip way, so he added that he wasn’t actually gonna kill himself. People like him didn't do that, and he wasn’t really depressed anyway. He was perfectly fine and healthy, after all. The doctors had begged him to understand that. So, he told Changbin that he was sad, but that didn’t feel right. He corrected himself: “i’m lonely and idk why because it's not as if any of our friends were really friends in the first place”. He told him that he missed him. </p><p>The car ride was quiet. It usually was, of course -- Hyunjin had never made it a habit to talk to his driver about his life or his family -- but this time he’d forgotten his headphones, and it was an hour to Minho’s, maybe even more. He stayed completely still the entire time, staring off into the distance, probably looking as thoughtless as humanly possible.</p><p>Arriving at the mansion was also quiet. He shut his car door and made his way down the sidewalk where he could still see Minho weeks ago, admitting his crimes with a smile. Every step towards the door reminded him of the dread of those days, of seeing his plans crumble into nothing, and everyone betraying him one by one, even Changbin at the end. It was weird to be lonely; it was weird because he was used to having someone’s eyes always on him. It was weird that he was nostalgic for it.</p><p>The door opened before he even knocked, and it was Jisung, in a mustard sweatshirt and big jeans. He looked up at him, Hyunjin looked down at him. They stared, blinking, until Jisung said, “Uh. Hyunjin.”</p><p>“Sungie.” Hyunjin realized the last time he’d seen Jisung had been naked with his dick in Minho. Before he could say anything about it, though, Minho appeared behind him like a ghost, laughing strangely and waving for the blonde to step in. </p><p>“Hyunjin, I never thought you’d get here.”</p><p>Hyunjin scrunched his face. “You gonna try to set this place on fire too?”</p><p>Jisung burst into a laugh that he quickly tried to hide behind a hand as he stepped aside so that Hyunjin could enter. He mumbled, “I think it was Felix who did that.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Hyunjin said.</p><p>Minho clapped his hands. “Well, we were all just watching <em> Texas Chainsaw Massacre </em>, but that’s over, so what else should we all do? I think Monopoly would be fun.”</p><p>“You’re only saying that because you know you’d win,” Jisung said.</p><p>“Yes,” Minho said.</p><p>Hyunjin blew air out of his mouth in what was supposed to be a sigh as he walked inside, brushing past the two of them. “Where is Minnie? He’s the only person here who gives a shit about me.”</p><p>“Living room,” Minho called after him.</p><p>“Which?”</p><p>“The one with the fireplace,” Jisung answered.</p><p>“Great!”</p><p>Hyunjin entered to see most of everyone sitting on beige couches or on the almond carpet, eating snacks, on their phones or talking to each other. Felix was gossiping to Chan, who was holding a Kindle and reading it uncharacteristically. Seungmin was throwing rolled up papers at Jeongin, who was across the room and kept telling him to stop because it was annoying and not funny. Changbin wasn’t there. </p><p>He sat down with Seungmin, wrapped his arms around his waist snugly. He rested his chin on Seungmin’s shoulder. “Hi, baby.”</p><p>“Hello, baby.”</p><p>“Give me a kiss.”</p><p>“Your breath stinks.”</p><p>Hyunjin instantly let him go and moved back, one hand shooting to cover his mouth before he realized Seungmin was joking. His face heated up seeing the other laugh, but it wasn’t really in embarrassment -- more like shame and frustration. While on the floor, he had felt breakfast make its way up his throat, tasted vomit in the back of his mouth, and even though he hadn’t fully thrown up, he feared the stink of it was all over him. He glared then grumbled, “Why the fuck are we all here? And where is Binnie?”</p><p>“He said he had something to do with his dad,” Chan answered, free hand in Felix’s hair. </p><p>“Do we believe him?” Jeongin lifted an iced coffee to his lips and sucked a paper straw all the while Hyunjin imagined grabbing him and flinging him out the window. “I think he just didn’t want to see Hyunjin.”</p><p>“I mean, do any of us?” Minho, like he’d done at the front door, appeared out of thin air not too far from Hyunjin’s side. Hyunjin jumped some and even more when Jisung took up the seat next to him with his arms on the back and his legs open in the most obnoxiously heterosexual way imaginable.</p><p>“Haha, you’re so funny,” Hyunjin said flatly. “Put a movie on or something, I’m bored.”</p><p>“Nah,” said Jisung. “I think we should play something. Like. A game.”</p><p>“<em> I </em> think we should all sit here in silence and interact as little as possible,” Seungmin suggested.</p><p>“Please,” agreed Baby bread.</p><p>“Felix brought his Switch,” Chan said. “We can play Mario Kart. I have to finish reading this though.”</p><p>“You can read?” Hyunjin leaned away from Jisung, who was beginning to feel too close.</p><p>“He can’t,” Minho answered frankly, to a laugh from Felix and a huff from Chan. “But MIT sent out a summer reading list, right?”</p><p>“Yup,” said Chan. “We had the choice between <em>Wretched of the Earth</em>, <em>Gender Trouble</em>, or <em>The</em> <em>Iliad</em>.”</p><p>Seungmin immediately looked up. “Which did you choose?” </p><p>At the same time, Jeongin was laughing. “Are you sure you’re going to MIT?”</p><p>Minho plopped down on the arm of the couch, right beside Jisung. “I guess it makes sense. I can’t imagine how braindead all the STEM bros at that school really are. They’re probably just trying to keep incoming students from becoming eugenists at least.”</p><p>“I dunno about that. This isn’t teaching me anything about eugenics,” Chan replied, a bit dumbly, setting his kindle down on his lap. “I’m reading <em> Gender Trouble </em>.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Uh.” Jisung coughed. “Why that one?”</p><p>Chan looked up and flushed, most likely noticing that everyone’s eyes were on him. “I thought it sounded interesting, jeez. You know -- helps me do some sexuality exploring.” Felix muffled some giggles behind a hand, but not in a mean way; he probably thought this was cute somehow. “Cause you know, like, sexuality is a performance too. A social construct.”</p><p>Hyunjin groaned. “I think your ‘gender as a social construct’ Tedtalk can wait until you finish the book, Channie.”</p><p>“What does it mean for something to be a social construct?” Felix asked anyway, and Hyunjin wanted to groan a second time.</p><p>“How about we don’t start philosophizing-” he tried.</p><p>“It’s, like, when something isn’t actually real,” Chan interrupted, picking up his Kindle again. “But socially, it <em> is </em>.” He shifted. “I mean, I’m not an expert, and I’m probably describing it wrong, but that’s the general idea.”</p><p>Seungmin, because he was the only one with an actual brain cell, stepped in: “Think money. It doesn’t really mean anything. Dollars used to be a stand-in for real silver or gold, but by the 60s, we stopped dealing with all that trouble, so now a dollar doesn’t have real value. If society collapsed, it would be pretty worthless; you can’t eat it, or drink it, or build something out of a bunch of paper. Someone paying you is only a good thing because we both decided it is, but it’s not.” He played with the pages of his own book, bending them carelessly. “Country borders aren’t real either, you know. We all just decided that they were.”</p><p>Jeongin mumbled, “Your wording is all messed up.”</p><p>Hyunjin was bored; he pulled his phone out and read through his messages to Changbin. He asked him what he wanted to study and told him he hoped it wasn’t some boring humanities shit. He hated when people tried to deconstruct the world like this.<br/>
“Why’s it messed up?” Seungmin’s tone was offended. “Have you ever read postmodernists anyway?”</p><p>“A little,” the baby bread admitted. “But I don’t mean that you’re totally wrong, it’s only that- Well, money <em> is </em> real. Just because something doesn’t have -- I’m not sure how to phrase it -- a material existence -- that doesn’t make it not real. If everyone here decides, and really believes, that there’s another couch in this room, then there is. It’s real. If we all say a twenty dollar bill is twenty then it’s real. Something being socially constructed doesn’t make it fake, only that it’s real <em> because </em> of us, as opposed to in spite of.” Hyunjin was playing Candy Crush now. “Social constructs are good. We made them, so we can change them. At least hypothetically.” There was a pause, and then, “We can say anything is real and make it so that is it. We can say something isn’t real, or something didn’t happen, and that can be real too.”</p><p>Hyunjin finished the level as the words settled in. He glanced up, meeting Jeongin’s direct piercing gaze. Then, he realized that everyone was looking at him. He almost shivered, as if someone had forced his mouth open and poured crushed ice down his throat; in his head, he was seeing everyone, especially Minho, standing and melting into gruesome, bloody deformities. Thin-skinned, stringy, crawling forward and attaching together so that they were one big mass moving towards him, simultaneously ridiculously goopy and horrifying. They looked a lot like the monsters in the 1989 horror movie <em> Society </em>. Actually, they looked just like that. Hyunjin berated his brain for not being original in his paranoid terror.</p><p>It was Jisung that broke the silence again: “Hey, Jinnie, why’d you miss graduation?” He was smiling, as if he were fulfilling something he had wished decades of his life to do.</p><p>Hyunjin stammered incoherently, then, “What?”</p><p>“You missed school for a few weeks. What’s up with that?”</p><p>“What the fuck do you mean? You- You know why. I almost died-”</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Jisung said, and then laughed, and some others were trying not to laugh; Minho didn’t hide his smile. “Because if <em> that’s </em> true, then you also got me kicked out of my house and ruined my relationship with my family for good. And that would make me so depressed and angry that I’d probably be willing to attempt murder again.” A lazy grin. “Good thing none of that happened.”</p><p>Hyunjin wasn’t sure what was happening to his blood pressure, but he was pretty certain at least a few arteries had exploded and were currently filling his lungs with blood.</p>
<hr/><p>This was goodbye. </p><p>It was meant to be a goodbye fuck. They had had a few discussions about it before: the first day of senior year, Hyunjin had been on his back on the principal’s desk, asking him casually what their plan was for graduation. They had settled on cutting things off; these sorts of relationships, if they can even be called that, weren’t meant to last, and they both knew it. That was fine. Hyunjin had never developed feelings more than nausea about him, but he felt weirdly nostalgic. There was no golden era where the sex was good, or the pampering was great, or anything at all about it was decent, but Hyunjin kept feeling like there was. He just wasn’t looking hard enough.<br/>
<br/>
He apologized to Changbin again, over text, as he walked through familiar halls that were entirely empty. It was so quiet he didn’t know what to do; it made the sunlight streaming through the windows at his side feel like daggers digging into his abdomen. When he began to see the heavy maple that led into the principal’s office, he stopped.</p><p>The last time he’d been at school had been on some day he didn’t remember well anymore. He didn’t think about why he didn’t remember. He wasn’t sure why he’d stopped anyway. It’s not like he was thinking. He wasn’t <em> doing </em> anything, he was just staring, staring at the door as if it would open by itself even though no one was really supposed to be here because it was fucking summer.</p><p>He took his phone out again, out of a pink tote bag. He went through texts, through plans to hang out with the others again. It was all impulsive; he was just looking for something to do. For the first time in what was probably months, he opened his email. For no particular reason, he just did. </p><p>There weren’t as many updates as he expected, but quite a few emails from Princeton. He clicked on the most recent, and it said something about an update to his application. He clicked on the link. He clicked on everything he needed to. When the update loaded it said: <b>Administrative cancellation of admission. Student should contact the Undergraduate Admissions Office for information</b>. He saw a few sentences below that: “When you applied to Princeton, you signed the following statement: ‘I certify I understand I may be subject to a range of possible disciplinary actions, including admission revocation, expulsion, or revocation of course credits, grades, or degree’ ” and “you failed to submit your final transcript by the final deadline” and “please return any keys, student identification, and Princeton University property in your possession to the Registary-”</p><p>He dropped his phone.</p>
<hr/><p>Jin-young struggled when he was dragged out of the car. He was yelling and shouting, and it was only because of that that everyone already in the woods rushed out from their spots behind trees to the side of the road. Chan was holding him, and Jeongin was too. Felix was getting out of the car and not helping restrain the punches and kicks of their captive, but he was certainly motivating. He guided Chan and Jeongin and screamed a warning when Jin-young nearly freed an arm and smashed it into Chan’s nose. Changbin, Seungmin, and Jisung went to help, gripping clothes and limbs. Slowly, they pulled him deeper into the forest, deeper and deeper until the moonlight disappeared somewhere in the trees above. </p><p>When they flung him to the ground, his head slammed into a trunk, and he grunted. His hands went up to cradle his skull, but only for a moment. He looked up at the others with confusion twitching along the muscles of his face. The first thing he did was mouth, mouthing a demand to know what the others were doing.</p><p>Chan said, “This is your fault.”</p><p>“For being a snitch,” Hyunjin laughed.</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Hyunjin’s hand kept scraping the bark of the trees to his right. He walked with a stumble, continually tripping over rocks and rocking with each step, so he had one arm out. He kept trying to guide himself, but the pines all looked the same, and they kept leading him down paths that only made the world darker. If he turned around and walked straight, he might’ve been able to find his way out easily, but he wasn’t looking for that. It was miles from where they had killed Jin-young -- it had been many, many miles from their school -- but Hyunjin didn’t care. He kept going, even if his knees were trembling. With heavy eyelids that kept threatening to blind him, he couldn’t stop walking. At one point, he wondered if he’d drawn blood on his palm, but the stinging only lasted a moment.  </p><p>He was fine. As if it’d never happened.</p><p>It looked like a clearing ahead, so Hyunjin sped up. He didn’t run, or even speedwalk much, but he moved faster. His ankles kept twisting, and his sides kept slamming into trunks, and his face kept getting grazed by sharp branches, but he made it in one piece to this spot where light was streaming in.</p><p>It wasn’t a clearing -- there was just a gap in the trees’ reaches above -- but at least, there was light.</p>
<hr/><p>They beat the shit out of him. They all did. Everyone got in at least a punch. At one point Changbin was holding Jin-young’s head up by the hair and they each took a turn slamming their feet into any portion of his face. It was probably a good thing they killed him. An act of mercy, in the end, really.</p>
<hr/><p>Hyunjin was on the ground. It hadn’t rained in weeks, but the dirt was mud and it was wet against his cheek. He reached into his bag, but his phone’s screen was cracked beyond recognition. He decided to call aloud, “Binnie.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Jin-young refused to apologize even after that. Though whenever he got close to saying much of anything, someone would hit him again. Maybe he would have apologized if they let him. No one let him do more than breathe as a bloody, pummeled entanglement on the floor. He croaked something out, again, but no one understood him. Minho crouched to his level, took his chin, and examined him for a long time. After a pause, he said, “He still hasn’t learned his lesson.” He reached into a satchel he’d brought with him, then pulled out three butcher knives, all with an ebony sheath cover. </p><p>“Wait,” Jisung finally said. “Wait.” He had cried quite a bit; he had beaten Jin-young, but he’d cried also. “Maybe we should stop.” Felix had also pleaded for everyone to calm down earlier. Seungmin had too, but none of them did more than ask. “I think we’re taking it too far.” That was obvious. “Fuck-” he cursed. “We don’t want to kill him- kill him accidentally-”</p><p>Jin-young said something about Jisung, something incomprehensible, but whatever it was, Jisung understood it. He took a step back, and for a few moments, he was silent again. The glimpse of resistance disappeared. When Jin-young said something about Felix, the same thing happened. When he mentioned Hyunjin, Changbin took a knife. Chan took one too. </p><p>Not all of them did the stabbing, but all of them killed him. Not all of them got splattered as if they’d showered in a river made up of dark red wine, but every single one of them had blood on their hands.</p>
<hr/><p>The greenery invaded his vision; a pine cone that had landed on his face was its biggest disruption, but once he brushed it off, the biggest disruption became the end of an obsidian Dr. Martens boot an inch away from him. Painfully, Hyunjin dragged his eyes up to a pair of dark cargo pants and a sleeveless top up to Changbin’s face. He was staring at a tree across from them, and because they were still in some stuffy part of the forest, they were so close beside each other they were almost touching. Hyunjin had been propped up against a tree, so he was sitting, in theory, but he was in reality slumped over. Changbin was criss-crossed, upright, listening to the birds seemingly, because he hummed whenever there were loud chirps overhead.</p><p>Hyunjin’s mouth felt dry. “Please tell me you read my texts.”</p><p>Changbin didn’t look at him.</p><p>“Was I annoying? You’re not mad about it, are you?”</p><p>“I have other things to be mad at you about.”</p><p>Hyunjin smiled, and he felt a warmth in his chest that had become unfamiliar the past month. “Were you following me around this whole time?”</p><p>Changbin snorted. “No, you’re just lucky. They printed my diploma with a typo, and I came to pick up the corrected version. I saw you running and crying right as I was parking.”</p><p>“I wasn’t crying.”</p><p>“You weren’t running either.” Hyunjin laughed. “You looked like a zombie. I was scared you were- you were gonna try something so I decided to follow you.”</p><p>“I told you that I’m not, like, really suicidal.”</p><p>“I don’t think emotionally stable people text their stalker every day and call a suicide hotline just for fun.” Hyunjin was still laughing, and Changbin raised a brow, finally turning his head. “What?”</p><p>“You’re not my stalker anymore.” Hyunjin looked at their hands, trying to remember how Changbin’s felt, wondering if he had ever even held them. “You haven’t been since I fucked up.” He knew the other was about to scold him again, so he added, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. Everyone is saying it never happened, but I don't know. I don’t know anything.” He took one of Changbin’s fingers, squeezed it. “I know I missed you, though. Knowing you were avoiding me made me want to explode.”</p><p>Changbin snorted. “Explode?”</p><p>“I don’t know how else to say it,” Hyunjin chuckled. Their palms were pressed together now, their fingers were interlocked. “I was just gonna explode.”</p><p>“Well I don’t know if you should be the one apologizing.”</p><p>“Do you feel bad for stalking me?”</p><p>“Do <em> you </em> feel bad for killing someone?”</p><p>Hyunjin realized, very suddenly, that he still didn’t. He hadn’t learned a lesson. He hadn’t changed. In fact, he felt like he was regressing, not just past the incident with the fire, but before Jin-young, and before St. Sebastian’s High School -- regressing all the way back to the kid who’d fallen off a tree in Changbin’s backyard and cried even though he wasn’t hurt. He was halfway back to shaming Changbin for not knowing his own emotions, and halfway grounded to the muddy floor by his stalker’s hand. It was kind of fucked up; it was kind of a lot of things. “Hey.”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>Hyunjin stared at the tote bag he still had hanging from his left shoulder, then back to the other. “Can you kiss me?”</p><p>Changbin was quiet. “You’re all muddy.”</p><p>Pout. “But my mouth is fine!” Still, he didn’t resist as Changbin wiped at the mud on one side of Hyunjin’s face with the back of his hand. He smeared most of it, but was careful not to get anymore of it caked onto Hyunjin’s hair. He wiped his hand on his pants after almost a full minute of trying to get Hyunjin to look decent, and he either succeeded or gave up, as Hyunjin asked, “There?”</p><p>Changbin licked his lips then said, randomly, “Seungmin told me you asked who called the fire department.”</p><p>A moment of silence and bird chirping. “Did you tell him to cover for you?”</p><p>“That would be pretty romantic, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>They started off smoothly, almost hesitantly. Hyunjin put his free hand on Changbin’s shoulder and tilted his head just a bit, trying to keep still as their lips pressed flush together but did almost nothing of that sloppy moving Hyunjin was used to. It was dry and chaste, but warm. Hyunjin let himself be kissed for the most part. He enjoyed the fluttering touches of the other on his hip, then his waist, then his shoulder, then his cheek, then tucking hair behind his ear. When he slid a hand down Hyunjin’s chest, he shuddered, then laughed for the hundredth time. He moved clumsily, but he managed to crawl onto Changbin’s lap. It was only then that their kisses deepened, that Hyunjin’s lips parted, and that a tongue slipped into his mouth.</p><p>By this point, obviously, he was horny. Soon enough, he could feel his hips rocking needily against the air, purposely avoiding Changbin’s noticeable hard-on, and he tried as much as he could to think for a second, but he couldn’t. He wanted to wonder if what he was doing was bad somehow, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. When Changbin cupped him through his pants, unbuttoned, slipped his hand in, Hyunjin might as well have gotten lobotomized. The last of his coherent thoughts were gone; he could only hear his throaty whines as calloused fingers dragged against the skin of his cock, pumped it in time with his stuttering thrusts into them. When Changbin’s grip became a fist, tugging and pulling enough to make Hyunjin bury his face into his neck, his moans had become high-pitched and shaky. </p><p>Changbin said, “You said I could fuck your thighs again, right?”</p><p>“I changed my mind.” Hyunjin, with a trembling hand, got Changbin to release him. He crawled off of him, but moved onto his hands and knees, began to rub Changbin through the cargo. “Please. I want you in my mouth.”</p><p>Changbin smiled, sillily. “Just your mouth?”</p><p>“You can fuck my ass too, stupid.” They were both laughing. “But you can’t do both at the same time unless you have another dick hidden somewhere.” Hyunjin took a moment to unbutton his own shirt, realized he didn’t want to sweat through it, and tore it off. In the process, however, he had to make eye contact with his rosary sitting there, right between his nipples. “Pfft,” he accidentally said out loud.</p><p>Changbin didn’t comment on that. Hyunjin took his time doing what he was best at: enjoying dick. He squeezed the base, stroked it even though it was already throbbing in time with his heartbeats, and he suckled on the head. He even made eye contact as he began to bob his head, or at least tried. Even after spending the last year in particular being the biggest slut in existence, he still managed to get shy about this somehow. It was one of his cutest traits, he bet, and Changbin scratching soothingly at his scalp seemed to prove it. He deepthroated, swirled his tongue around the tip, licked up the sides and peppered kisses all over it. </p><p>“Why haven’t you cum yet?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“My blowjobs are great.”</p><p>“Yeah, they r-really are.”</p><p>“Yeah so, um? Cum? Where is it?” No response. “How much porn do you watch?”</p><p>Changbin smothered some sort of noise. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”</p><p>Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but smiled. He reached for his tote bag that had slipped off at some point. “I have lube and condoms here.”</p><p>“Do you just carry that around all the time?”</p><p>“Let’s not talk about that right now.”</p><p>Hyunjin had already prepped himself for the principal, but he had no idea how long he’d been passed out. The sun was still out, so hopefully not long, but if things got messy, well, they would just have to deal with it. They kissed again as Changbin slipped on a condom and Hyunjin fingered himself. It was strawberry flavored lube, but he wasn’t sure if mentioning that would ruin the mood, so he decided that could wait until next time. He didn’t consider what he meant by next time.</p><p>When he lowered himself slowly onto his cock, he let out a soft breath. His lungs were still clogged, but for now that was okay. He settled his hands on Changbin’s biceps, and he gave them a squeeze. In his head, he saw Changbin beating Jin-young so hard he’d definitely broken some ribs. Hyunjin remembered the sharp screaming, and the thrashing, as he moved up, down, up, down. Changbin kissed him again, and he slithered in his tongue. Hyunjin circled his hips, taking in the guttural moans of the other, bounced at a steady rhythm as he became focused on breathing again again again. He was feeling hot, not like usual, not sweating and heated up and horny hot; he could feel the burn of flames inches from him, cooking his skin, steaming him until it felt like he was going to burst. Changbin brought him back to reality with a bite at his neck, and some quick strokes of his dick, but Hyunjin felt like he was burning alive and his lungs were filling with smoke. Again. He rode him skillfully; when the other started thrusting up into him, Hyunjin took it just fine. </p><p>When Changbin came, Hyunjin hugged him. He didn’t know why.</p><p>Changbin pressed wet kisses everywhere and looked about to pull out so that he could suck off Hyunjin, given that he was looking down at his twitching cock hungrily, but Hyunjin touched himself instead. Changbin seemed to understand that was how he wanted to finish, and so they both pumped, stroked, teased, until Hyunjin spilled stickily over their fingers. The fall from the high, though, was somehow more pleasurable than actually cumming. Finally, his lungs filled with air, so much that he was sure he felt his ribs crack. He brought a hand to his chest, wanting to grip his heart, but the rosary was there instead; it’s coolness suddenly made itself known.</p><p>Hyunjin blinked, noticed Changbin was panting, trying to catch his breath. Moved off of him -- Hyunjin stumbled. He wearily rubbed at his face, but there was no post-orgasm regret or clearance. He stayed dazed, but he had an urge, an impulse. He looked at the forest, the direction away from Changbin, and then he began to walk again. Changbin looked up, called after him, even mentioned the tote bag he had just left behind. Hyunjin heard it but didn’t. </p><p>He didn’t go far before he moved to the ground as he had before, but not falling or collapsing. He maneuvered into a crouch, took in the crisp blades of grass and the clumps of brown against his hands, then moved down to press one ear into the earth. He could hear something, but he wasn’t sure if it was Jin-young shrieking and crying as knives plugged into him or the crackling of fire. He tried to strain himself to listen harder, but the sounds were growing softer and softer. As if they’d never been there.  </p><p>Hyunjin closed his eyes to search for anything that could prove to him that his heart was still beating. He rummaged through everything left in his brain, the memories that were becoming darker and spottier each second, even as everything melted away into the feeling of dirt against his ear. He felt something move; he reached out, caught it with both hands, opened his eyes, and looked down with all the hope he could muster -- of course it was just the crucifix, dangling from a collection of red beads. </p>
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